Unmei
by Black-Inque2002
Summary: Love, hate, and vengance are all powerful emotions. Sometimes, they're so powerful, they'll break the boundaries of death.
1. Reawakening

_Swirling darkness._

_Tiny motes of awareness dancing, floating, falling. Coming together and apart as they struggled to reach full sentience._

_Here and there a vivid flash of memory permeated the void. A red guymelef. The feel of a smooth coat of protective gel sliding over a body. The cries of battle dulled through the thick armor of the helm. The scent of fear wafted through the air followed by the electric anticipation of seeing spilled blood. _

_Another guymelef. A white one. _

_The Escaflowne. The mere sight of it ignited a hot surge of hatred for the one piloting it._

_Van Fanel. That uppity little bastard king of Fanelia who had, in a single rainy afternoon, destroyed everything he, Dilandau, had ever loved. Now he was about to return the favor. It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair that Van had gotten to walk away from every fight all the luckier. Despite every tactic, every try, that scrawny whelp had managed to slip out of his grasp and live! The very knowledge that Van had continued to exist, continued to breathe the same air as he, had been a source of unending frustration, like a sharp wedge of steel lodged between his ribs. _

_But not today. Today that pain would end. Today would be the day they finished the score once and for all. And Dilandau was determined to win this time, no matter what it might cost. He may have been alone. He may have lost everything, even his sanity, but he would never rest until Van Fanel lay dead at his feet. _

_Oh yes! So very close he was now! So close to tasting victory! _

_Today, Van, you DIE! _

_The red guymelef exploded into action in a sudden, murderous leap, eager to thrust its crima claw through the tender flesh hiding inside the metal shell. _

_But it didn't make it. _

_Van, thanks to the teachings of his Mystic Moon bitch, had evaded the attack, fending Dilandau off almost too easily and backing the red guymelef into the base of a cliff, leaving it nowhere to go. It raised its sword, about to make the final blow, when the air shimmered in front of it. A blue melef appeared then as its stealth cloak came off, jumping to protect its master as the giant blade came crashing down..._

_NO!_

_Blood spurted from the driver's helm in a fountain of violent red, splashing onto the ground below. _

_JAJUKA!_

_The motes dispersed under the violent agony of the memory, unable to bear the brunt of the grief at losing the last being on Gaia that had meant anything to him. The only one who had been there with him since childhood like a shadow, ever watchful, ever loyal. Gone in one horrible instant. _

_It was over. He had nothing more to fight for. Not even his own life seemed enough to strengthen his will into action. His guymelef had merely stood there in silent shock as he looked on, beads of cold sweat rolling down his sallow face. His vision rocked sickeningly, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. He dimly heard another guymelef land nearby, voices screaming at each other, but he couldn't make them out. Gradually they faded away along with his sight._

_And then there was no more. _

--

"Look after her."

_His words whispered in her mind, spoken with bitterness and a broken smile as he turned to leave her, long golden hair fluttering out behind him in the breeze. She stared helplessly after him, her chest tight with fear for his life as well as an utter confusion as to what to do with the unbelievable task he'd left her with. What could she possibly do for his sister? The poor thing was disoriented and frightened out of her wits and totally dependent on her brother. She'd clung to him to the very last second until she had to be restrained, tears streaking her pale face as she watched him go...maybe to never return. _

And now?

Princess Eries Aston sighed deeply as she set her pen down, unable to concentrate enough to write anything meaningful in her diary.

"Look after her."

Look after her? How long had it been since he'd gone? Three months? And still the girl wandered the corridors of the palace like a lost kitten, aimless and withdrawn, rarely speaking unless repeatedly prompted to do so. Her blue eyes were large, haunted, empty orbs, suggesting that not everything behind them was necessarily in working order; as if a piece of her had been broken away. It was as well, considering the hell she'd been through. Eries didn't know whether to pity her or to fear her. Long stretches of her life were missing in her memory, completely consumed by that _other_ demon-psyche. From what Allen had told her, it wasn't beyond reason to expect that at any time Celena might revert back into her previous personality as Dilandau, and any extreme emotional trigger only heightened the danger. Therefore, until they could be absolutely certain that enough time had passed and Dilandau's imprint faded, Celena could not be allowed to be introduced back into her society.

But the unspoken question that lingered in the back of everyone's minds was if that dark, bloodthirsty persona ever would disappear. Could Celena ever hope to live a normal life and could they really give that to her by keeping her locked up in the palace with nothing but the whispering of the maids to keep her company?

Eries, who'd had her doubts in the beginning, only felt them becoming more magnified. Allen himself had secretly confessed his fears to her; that at times Celena terrified him simply because he knew what had been done to her. In one sense, she was his sister, the sweet, darling child he remembered from ten years ago, but that pure image had been raped and twisted by the Zaibach Sorcerers into a monstrosity of a human being. How could such a demon have ever lived inside of such an angel? He could never let that thought go. It haunted him to be reminded over and over again that his sister was not the same as he had left her. Sometimes at night he could hear her calling out for the men who had once been under the Zaibach captain's command and swearing revenge against the king of Fanelia. Indeed, during the first month, her bloodcurdling shrieks had awakened the entire household. Just remembering those nights brought a shiver to Eries's spine.

_And now here I am with her...putting not only myself, but the whole of my father's household at risk. _

It hadn't been easy by any means to convince her father, who was already suffering from poor health, to let her take in Celena. King Grava Aston had more than just cause to think less than agreeably of the Knight Caeli Allen Schezar, and had little interest in allowing a member of his family into his palace, regardless of her circumstances. Just ten years ago, his eldest daughter, Marlene, had fallen madly in love with him and a single night's tryst had produced an outrageous scandal that had resulted in her hasty marriage to the Duke of Fried, not to mention a bastard child that the Duke had claimed to be his in order to cover the mess up. It was a miracle in itself that Allen had not been executed for daring to love someone so beyond his own rank, never mind deflowering a king's daughter! Only Marlene's gentle, yet relentless persistence had spared his life, and so Grava had contented himself with sending Allen to the remote outpost of Castilo Fort. And if that were not enough, his youngest daughter had begun to follow in her elder's footsteps in her ridiculous infatuation with Allen. Grava would not let the same mistake happen twice. He had immediately engaged Millerna to Dryden Fassa, thereby making her untouchable. Yet even that as well as Eries's frequent urgings and chastisements had not been strong enough to keep the girl from throwing herself at him and chasing after him across the face of Gaia. Only after finally marrying had she been able to see that her responsibilities had extended far beyond gratifying her own feelings.

_Thank the gods she's over him,_ thought Eries. _She realizes now how foolish she's been. Soon she'll grow up and become a great Queen._

So as it was, Grava had met her proposal with suspicion and disdain, afraid that his favorite, most sensible daughter had suddenly lost her mind, only to grudgingly acquiesce once Eries had explained that she was doing this to help ease Allen's burdens with caring for an ill sister. The king told her to spare no expense on the girl's behalf. He had sent Dr. Shefali, a doctor of great reknown, to live with them in Eries' apartments (as well as to keep an eye on his daughter to make sure she wouldn't lose herself to Allen's charms).

Oh, Father, thought the princess. Little do you know that I've loved him for the better part of five years. But seeing what had become of Marlene, I knew better than to show it. This is the most I can do for him; the only way I can show him how much he means to me. There's no one else he can trust.

Eries stared down at the empty page, and finally frustrated, shut the diary and shoved her pen back into her desk drawer before bringing her hands up to massage her aching temples. It was late and she was beginning to feel it. Thunder growled in the distance outside, signaling the approach of a spring storm and oddly mimicking the storm of unrest and confusion that stewed about the Palace these days.

Although Eries was never one for superstition, she took it as a sign of bad things yet to come.

--

Rain began to drum gently against the diamond paned windows of the bedroom. Thunder growled in the distance like a prowling lion, interspersed with brilliant flickers of lightning that lit the room for a brief second with a white glow.

Celena Schezar felt a similar kind of storm brewing within her.

She wasn't certain what it was that was causing her unease; ever since she had come to this strange place and her brother had left her alone, her nights had been filled with restless, half-remembered nightmares of crying children and incessant, demanding whispers that forced her to wander the halls of her suite to shut them up. Sometimes it worked, but most times it didn't and she was escorted back to her room by a nervous maid who was always made it a very important point of _not _looking Celena in the eyes and not understanding her protests that going back to bed didn't make the voices go away. The maid, whose name was Emilia, only fidgeted with her starched apron and left as quickly as she possibly could. It didn't take Celena long to figure out that the woman was afraid of her. But why? Celena had done nothing to her and had often tried to get close to Emilia during their walks out in Princess Eries's private garden by picking her flowers, but her attempts were futile; the maid would accept the flowers with a quiet "thank you" and hastily tuck them into a pocket without so much as a smile.

Celena pondered this anew as she sat atop her bed, ankles crossed and head cradled by her folded arms atop her knees. She hadn't bothered to pull back the covers, too fearful to court another night of intensely vivid dreams that made no sense and voices she couldn't recognize. She knew the rest of the household in this wing of the palace were asleep by now, and the approaching thunder only underscored the silence that somehow seemed all the louder and the loneliness that felt all the sharper.

Being closeted inside of any place, even one as vast and elegant as the Royal Palace, with its crystal chandeliers, parquet floors, chintz curtains and retinue of servants bustling about, has a tendency to drive one to frustration. And in Celena's case, the three months she'd spent living like a vestal virgin had progressed well beyond stir crazy, the tension wrapping about her like a spring ready to snap, almost making her mad at times. Yet Princess Eries had told her that this was all in accordance with Allen's instructions to see to her recovery. Celena wasn't sure what she had meant when she had said that. She didn't feel as though she was recovering from anything. All she felt was alone and angry. They never let her do anything; never let her meet anyone new. She heard mentions of the sea and of bazaars, but all of them were beyond her reach. She was trapped, she knew, and all of the hovering, the whispering, and the fear-filled glances were choking her.

_Why aren't I like everyone else?_ she wondered, her eyes staring blankly into the fireplace where a cheerful flame danced to fight off the rain-cooled night air. _Why do other people get to go outside and see all sorts of interesting things and I can't? Why does everyone look at me like I'm crazy? _

She sighed miserably, drawing her arms tighter around her. It was all well and good for Allen to speak of doctors and bed-rest. He was never around. He was off fighting the last skirmishes of the Great War, in some distant country she'd never heard of with a very good chance of not returning home alive. He had a purpose.

_And what do I have?_

Nothing. A purposeless existence; she was a literal living doll to be picked up and put aside at whim by Eries and that insufferable Dr. Shefali.

Celena felt herself roll her eyes in disgust as the doctor came to mind. It was insulting, the way he wanted to probe into every little personal detail, the way he stared at her with those coldly analytical eyes as if he wanted to believe she was insane whenever she told him about her dreams. She had complained about him over and over about her contempt for the little man, but to no avail. Whatever Dr. Shefali told her to do, she must do if she wanted to get better.

Eries was no help, either. She took it as her sole reason for existence to school her in the ways of an aristocrat with lessons in needlework, knitting, etiquette, languages, music, what dresses to wear for certain occasions, and whatever dances that were popular in court. While the princess was a shade more lenient than the horrid doctor, she almost always sided with him if Celena made any protest. No, not almost. Always sided with him. Age, gender, and experience worked against her; Dr. Shefali was a royal physician, she was a supposedly ill and helpless child.

Naturally, resentment had begun to build, and with no outlet, the only place it could go was in tightening merry-go-round circles in Celena's mind. Why did Eries think she needed these useless skills as though her life depended on them? Why was everyone so convinced that she couldn't do anything for herself, that she couldn't function above the level of a five-year-old? She wasn't mentally handicapped! She could think and act like the fifteen-year-old she was. And although she knew that Eries and Allen were only trying to help her get back on her feet from the "accident", of which she couldn't recall no matter how hard she willed it, she couldn't help but nurse her spite. Allen had sought to make her life as simple and free of stress as he possibly could, but in reality, and, quite unbeknownst to himself, made it all the worse.

That, and the fact that the past ten years of her life remained nothing but a black void in her memory had put a decided damper on Celena's spirits on top of everything else. At most, all she could summon up were fleeting, scattered images of a flower field, a young boy with long, blonde hair who was certainly Allen, and a gloomy sky. She didn't understand why it was so important to remember. A lot of people couldn't remember things from their childhood. That was a part of growing older, right? Why make it more of a problem than it really was?

Perhaps it wasn't only out of worry that Allen guarded her so jealously.

She fixed her pale blue eyes on a small side table near the fireplace where her latest efforts at the female arts lay neglected. Celena had the sort of porcelain complexion, tiny mouth, long lashes, and ash blonde curls that resembled the many dolls lining the shelves around her room. Her countenance was in every way that of an angel, and she supposed that her apparent frailness only encouraged Allen's feelings of frivolous gallantry. She was only a little girl, after all.

Unfortunately for her brother, he didn't know the half of it.

The knitting splayed gracelessly over the table's edges, the needles lying forgotten on the hardwood floor. The dancing firelight animated it with false life, making it look almost like a writhing serpent. She wasn't even sure what she wanted it to be. It looked as though it could be a scarf, but her efforts were disinterested at best, making it look clumsy and misshapen. She was supposed to have worked on it after supper, but her patience had given out and she had tossed it aside in favor of a book. A book at least, provided some means of escape, even if it were only in her imagination.

A shot of hatred towards the knitting sprung up suddenly inside of her, making her chest nearly burn with it. It represented everything about her life she couldn't stand, all the things she was meant to learn but had no desire for, and the people who wanted to care for her but ended up being nothing more than kind-hearted captors.

Celena raised her head, fingers knotting in her nightgown, not in the least happy to look forward to another repeat performance of the same meaningless drivel tomorrow. Her head pounded as the faces she'd become so accustomed to appeared in her mind, followed by a horrible longing to wake up in the morning and never see them again.

One day. If she could have just one day, one hour, to be free from all of it, it would be a small taste of a miracle.

_Look at it lying there. That stupid, ugly scarf! I hate knitting! I hate wearing these stupid dresses! I hate learning what knife and fork to use at dinner! I hate being in this palace! I want my damned sword!_

She blinked, momentarily stunned by that last thought. What did she know of swords? Only men used them, and then only knights among men. Ladies didn't dare to go near such inappropriate things.

But what had really stunned her was the "my". "My" implied that she had once owned a sword and had a deep, certain knowledge of it.

_But...that's not possible. I've never--_

_Still...I bet I could use one if I had the chance._

Celena shook her head, hopefully sending these strange, invasive thoughts out the window of her mental attic. She put it down simply to being tired and distraught. Everyone already believed she was crazy. The last thing she needed was to prove them right.

But the scarf, or whatever it was supposed to be, was still there, still a very real promise of what the days ahead would bring.

With a sigh that almost bordered on a growl, she pushed herself to her feet in a furious sweep. She marched across the room to the triple arched windows and flung back the heavy chintz drapes with their pattern of birds and flowers in a vivid flash of white. Gripped by a feeling of rebellion, she unlatched and threw open one of the windows in spite of the storm. She couldn't stand the hot, stuffy air. If she became sick because of it, if she got scolded, then so be it. It made no difference to her.

The cool wind whipped her short hair and splashed raindrops onto her upturned face as she leaned against the sill. Eries had been urging her to grow her hair out, as it wouldn't be proper for her to look like a boy, while she had vehemently held her ground. A small victory, and, so far, her only.

Celena jumped a little as a fork of lightning split the sky a bit too close to the palace, followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder that rattled the glass. She sat there for a moment, but the intensity of her restlessness soon made her jump to her feet again and pace the length of her room.

Turning round at one point, she strode back to the table and stooped to pick up her knitting tools to throw them carelessly on her dresser and began to pace anew in a fury of unspent nervous energy. The white muslin of her gown whirled in rhythm to her movements, her distorted shadow leaping along the wall behind her. The harsh light from both the hearth and the storm played across her rigid features, just for a moment transforming it into something else; something harsh and terrifying.

Celena soon tired of her pacing, abruptly stopping at the side table to glare down at the scarf again. She leaned over it and grabbed it, squeezing her eyes shut against another wave of whispering that cajoled her, begged her, to do something about it. She didn't want it, right? She didn't care about learning how to be a retiring wife to some bureaucrat or noble.

_Then do something about it! Don't let them treat you like this! _

Panting now, she opened her eyes and her gaze traveled to the hearth. Cocking her head a bit to the side, she studied the way the fire within moved, the way it seemed almost alive as it licked at the wood. It was almost, dare she think it, soothing. Almost hypnotic. The dancing flames, with their flickering light, lovingly called out to her.

Here is how you can end it, the fire seemed to say. I can help you. I can make it better.

She slowly stood, tightening her grip on the ball of dark blue yarn, firm with resolve. A small part of her mind vaguely wondered what she was doing, but the voice of reason was soon lost in the overwhelming chorus of a much stronger voice that told her this was what she really wanted to do.

Breath quiet now, Celena slowly, almost reverently, crept near the decorative brass grate with its fluted swirls that kept the ash from dirtying the floor. A bizarre euphoria blossomed then along with her hatred, and she gladly submitted herself to it, for it was a mix of emotions she had never felt before. She clung to it, finding comfort in the tightness of her abdomen. In a few heartbeats, even her anger was forgotten. She didn't bother to question why only now the fire was affecting her this way. She didn't really care.

She raised her arm, extending her hand out towards the blaze. In one swift instant, she flung the loathsome scarf into the hearth, watching delightedly as the yarn caught alight.

Never had she been in such an unadulterated state of bliss! Such sweet, blazing heat pulsed through her veins and rolled down her spine, making her shudder gleefully.

_Yes! Yes! That's what I wanted! Burn it! Burn it all! _

The scarf was now no more than a sad pile of black ashes. Her wide eyes stared transfixedly into the enticing, amber seduction swaying before her, reflecting a glittering, animal-like intensity. Hand still outstretched, she closed her eyes as the sensation of euphoria and pleasure intensified.

Yes...fire! Beautiful, destructive fire! Raging like a lion. Destroying everything in its path! The power! The raw fury of it!

A mad peal of giggles burst from her pale lips as she sunk deeper into her trance. She fell back onto the floor, no longer in control of her body, tossing her head back as the giggling, in voice no longer hers, crescendoed into a maniacal cackling that reverberated off of the walls and swelled to fill the room with its madness..


	2. Enter The Girl Soldier and The Boy King

Asturia was a beautiful country, with its grand estates, rolling green hills, and seaside cliffs that were the envy of most other nations and perfect for boosting tourism and trade. A regular visitor might find it's people charming, it's cities elegant and filled with glamorous sophistication; places where nobles and royalty sent their children to be educated in politics. The climate was warm for most of the year and its skies rarely saw any major storms. It was a paradise.

And Refina Damalis couldn't hate it more. She had the privilege (or misfortune) to see a much different face of Asturia, the country that had once been allied to her own.

Perhaps that was due to the fact that she wasn't a simple sightseer out for a good time. She was currently spending her days incarcerated within an interrogation cell in the royal palace. She'd been trapped there for nearly three months, waiting on whatever the king wanted to do with her. She'd found it strange that she hadn't already been executed, but she was more than a common foot-soldier. She had been a captain in the Iron Army under General Quu, and therefore, a very tempting prize. Refina could only assume that King Aston wanted her alive for questioning. Either that, or it was because the king himself was in such bad health that it kept everybody busy with that and no one could decide on what to do with her. So, for the moment she was left to rot.

_I wish they'd just make up their minds on what they want. What could they possibly get from me that they wouldn't already know? Unless they want to know more about Emperor__Dornkirk or possibly the Sorcerers. Tough luck there, bastards. I don't know anything other than what I've been told. And the only person who could tell you is dead. Thanks to your treachery, naturally. _

She was sitting on her narrow bed, her stormy, dark eyes staring down at the backs of her hands as an image of the late Strategos floated into her mind, followed by a stab of pain. It never seemed to go away, no matter how hard she willed it. The faces of those who had been lost to her remained; tormenting her during the night in her dreams and haunting her during the day. Yet she let herself cling to them, seeking comfort amidst the grief. What else could she do? Walls didn't make very good conversationalists.

_Perhaps they're trying to kill me with boredom. And it just might work._

Refina felt a sigh escape her, and her hands clenched into angry fists. She should have died then and there with the rest of her unit, gone down with honor, instead of having to watch the girls who had become her dearest friends be brutally killed right in front of her. But no. Fate had another plan in mind. Instead, she had been surrounded in her guymelef; forced to give herself up. Such humiliation!

At least I didn't go without a fight, she thought with malicious satisfaction. A few unlucky Asturian soldiers had been at the receiving end of her sword before they had managed to subdue her. But it still didn't feel like enough for the lives of her friends. No amount of retribution could ever be enough for that.

She pushed herself off of the bed and started to idly walk around the cramped length of her cell. She had to admit that for all of the guards' insults and innuendoes, she was treated better than she had thought she would be. At least they let her outside in one of the side gardens to walk about where no one could see her in the afternoons. Not without supervision, of course. Her food was simple, but bearable. Hell, she had even gotten a few visits from Princess Millerna; not that those had been particularly enjoyable visits. They had mostly consisted of the princess badgering her with accusations and then, in some of the later meetings, almost being civil with her, as if she could draw anything out of Refina by being friendly. Millerna's naivete and obvious lack of common sense had been painfully transparent. She obviously had no idea just who she had been trying to talk to. Refina had responded in kind, when she had felt like responding at all, with an unsmiling coldness that had been her trademark in the Zaibach military and had earned her the nickname "Ice Queen" for her ability make herself unreadable, no matter what she may be feeling. The princess was such a child. Hardly worth the effort. She was better off hosting tea parties or whatever it was that spoiled little brats like her did.

It had all been enough to rankle her pride. Even though she was now without home or country, she still thought of herself as a soldier; a captain. Was it not she who had broken through the gender barrier? Was it not she who had proven herself capable to lead?

_ I won't let them get to me. I'd just as happily kill myself before that. I may have brought dishonor to the memories of my friends, but I will not bring myself dishonor. _

Yes, Asturia was a horrible place, and like any concerned inmate, Refina was desperate to find a way out. She wasn't about to let herself suffer the indignity of being killed by these fools who thought they were doing Gaea a favor.

Refina shook her head slightly with a sigh, her mind traveling back to the huge crowds that had gathered the day she had been brought here. Hundreds of Palas citizens had lined the streets, alternately cheering for their men or cursing her. She'd held her head high nevertheless, enduring the taunts and spiteful insults hurled in her face, all the while gritting her teeth and vowing to silence their celebration. The war hadn't ended yet. It was just being played out with a new set of rules and on new territory. She would master that territory no matter how difficult her captors made it. She would make sure they would pay their dues... in blood, preferably.

Those idiots! Why couldn't they realize that they would have been better off under Dornkirk? Then all fighting would have ended and she wouldn't be caged in this hell-hole, forced to endure the maddening silence that settled thick like a fog around her or the vapidness of Princess Millerna. She wouldn't have to be thinking of ways to exact revenge. Fate should have been on their side!

Refina felt herself sneer. Ah, yes, Fate. After all, wasn't that what her empire had been built on? The desire to control Fate? And look at how things had ended up.

Van Fanel, she reasoned bitterly, had certainly seen to that. He and his bitch from that cursed Mystic Moon had damned them all! If it hadn't been for her and her uncanny ability to detect when and where Zaibach would strike next, they would have won the war. They would have won, damn it! It would have been such an easy victory too. They had the men, the technology, and will to wipe out anyone standing in their way.

But no! It couldn't have gone more wrong! Folken had gone back to his simpering little brother, the Dragonslayers were slaughtered, and the Destiny Prognostication Machine had malfunctioned no thanks to that meddling girl!

_Damn you, Mystic Moon bitch! _Refina cursed. _Damn you and Van Fanel for all that you've done! I hope you died on your way back to your world! I surely would have found you and killed you if you had remained. _

Hitomi Kanzaki's face flashed before her mind's eye. She had only gotten a quick glimpse of her when she and her companions had been taken prisoner by Zaibach along with the Escaflowne. She remembered being a bit surprised when she first saw the girl from the Mystic Moon, imagining her to be more...threatening, maybe? Powerful looking. After all, if Dornkirk had wanted her, then she must have been some sort of supernatural creature. But a cursory glance of a plain-featured, scrawny, and altogether human girl left about as much to be threatened by as would a kitten or a wilted flower. Refina could hardly believe that this had been the person responsible for seeing through the Alseides' Stealth Cloaks. That girl had only been a child! Refina could have easily broken her in half, if they had let her, but she had been occupied with more important matters then, back when Zaibach had still been confident of itself.

She continued to let her mind wander, going back to a time not so long ago during her own career as a captain, scarcely able to comprehend that it had been only three months ago that she had stood at the front awaiting the order to strike.

Unbidden, an image of her old friend, Gatti formed in her mind, and she felt a sad smile tug at the corners of her mouth despite herself. She'd met him in an orphanage when she was a child, her parents simply too poor to look after her properly. It was an existence many children of the lower classes had shared. Despite the Empire's growing wealth, many people had not benefitted from it and had lived much in the same way as before the coming of Dornkirk and his otherworldly technology; slaving away in steel and textile mills that had replaced their farms and earning next to nothing. And that was the way life had been.

It hadn't always been so bad. There were some good memories of playing with the other children and Gatti. In fact, it had been his idea that they enlist in the army. It would be good for them, he'd said. It would give them a purpose in life rather than just drifting around and living from hand-to-mouth. They'd at least have a place to sleep and food to eat and the honor of defending their country. And hey, who knew? Maybe they'd get to pilot one of those guymelefs someday. Maybe they'd even be generals, like the great and famous Adelphos.

He had always been so optimistic, so ready to take on anything, no matter how hard a situation became. She had liked that best about him, since she tended be more of the cynical realist. Gatti had had the gift for getting her motivated and excited about almost anything, boosting her spirits when she thought she'd never live a worthy life. Refina always wondered how he managed to hope like that when all too often she had none for herself, but he had been so enthusiastic about it, that she couldn't help but be drawn in with him.

_Gatti. I miss you..._

Together they had enlisted, and together they became soldiers. After that, though, they saw very little of each other, as their quarters were segregated by gender. The only times they could meet was during the night by sneaking into the training room that was used by both her unit and his, and often he was too busy or tired to see her. And so, as what happens to most friends in such situations, they began to grow apart. He would still smile and wave at her whenever he saw her, but Refina knew that a rift had split between them and would probably never close. It wasn't until she threw herself into her swordplay, working her way up through the ranks of elite soldier to captain in a mere three years, that the feelings of emptiness began to fade and she found a new place as a captain her own right.

That was, of course, until the day she laid eyes on the boy who would change her life...and perhaps her fate...forever. Her only weakness, the one chink in her so carefully built emotional fortress: Dilandau Albatou.

The first time she saw him was entirely by chance. He had been walking down the hallways of the Vione, and she had been on her way to do some errand for Lord Folken.

Refina prided herself on not fearing much, or allowing herself to be impressed. She'd become so used to everyone and everything aboard the floating fortress that it had turned into mundane routine. But when her eyes laid upon him, her walls had collapsed around her.

He was a creature so completely unlike anyone she had ever met before that she had had nothing to compare him to. Tall and regal he was, moving with a fluid feline precision that spoke of long years of intense training and shaping into a formidable commander. This one had been bred to lead where most would not dare to follow, fighting in fields of blood and flame, and even though he was the same age as she, Refina could see that any tenderness of youth had been beaten out of him long ago. His eyes of scarlet held no love of anything except the flash of cold steel and screams of dying enemies and his pale, flawless face was as frigid as marble. He was Emperor Dornkirk's secret weapon, Gatti's captain, and from that moment on, her god. He was the symbol of Zaibach patriotism and the ideal soldier. How could she ever live up to such a standard?

He had noticed her looking at him then and, with brief scowl of annoyance that turned into an amused smirk, he quickly intercepted her, leaving Refina feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. And yet she could do nothing but stand there, so bewitched she had been.

"So, you're the new captain of the Iron Army's Dragonslayers, am I right?"he asked in a somewhat taunting voice. "What's your name, little girl?"

Her jaw tightened at the insult and a red flush spread across her cheeks, which only seemed to amuse him further.

"Refina Damalis,"she replied curtly.

"Well, then, Damalis, or should I say, _Captain_ Damalis,"he said, putting an excessive amount of sarcasm on the title, "It seems that we're going to be seeing quite a bit of each other." At this his crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as if the idea disgusted him. "So stay out of my way."

And with that, he was gone. So much for introductions.

Refina smiled at the memory. What a lovestruck fool she'd been. She should have defended herself; said something snappish in return, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. What he had told her that day had been true. They had indeed began to see each other often; too often for him, not nearly often enough for her. Strategy meetings, formal appearances, audiences with Dornkirk. And each time it had been more difficult to make herself pay attention to what had been going on. She'd caught herself staring at him far more than she'd liked rather than whoever had been speaking, but she'd learned to snap herself out of her daydreaming before anyone else could catch her. The consequences of idleness and inattentiveness would have far outweighed her pathetic wants.

One event in particular had brought her dangerously close to letting her secret slip. It had been during Zaibach's early campaign in Asturia trying to win the king over into an alliance, and Folken had been ordered to dock in Palas where he, the Four Generals and the Four Captains were to attend a formal dinner and ball. No one had looked forward to it, and to make matters worse, Refina was made to wear a gown in order not to offend the Asturian court with her "unfeminine" armor and sword. Grudgingly, she'd worn the horrible thing, but had made sure that it had been as simple as she could get away with just to spite everyone else. The entire affair had been dreadfully boring and irksomely stiff. She'd found the courtiers to be cold, suspicious, and decadent. It wouldn't have mattered if she had worn her armor or the most elaborate gown in the world; once they had known that she, a woman, was a captain, they had regarded her with thinly veiled contempt.

Dilandau, Refina had found much to her delight, was equally as spiteful, going out of his way to make sarcastic comments, drink too much wine, and be an altogether pain in the ass even more than he usually was. When he'd first seen her in her dress, he'd snickered and said something along the lines of "Congratulations, Damalis. You look like a woman."

They'd spent their time gleefully making fun of the various pompous lords and their vapid wives and almost came quite close to sounding companionable. It was in such a moment of weakness that she had almost admitted her feelings. Luckily for her, Folken had interrupted their antics with a severe reprimand, which promptly shut her up for the rest of the night, but had only goaded Dilandau on.

She wondered why she continued to idolize him despite all the times he'd snubbed her, saying how useless it had been for Zaibach to recruit females, and that she and her slayers would never be as efficient as he and his, and a sort of bitter rivalry had formed between them. Every battle had then became a competition of who could bring down the most enemy guymelefs or who could fly their Alseides the fastest. It had been ridiculous, surely, but Refina had been determined to beat Dilandau at least once so he would be forced to admit that women in the army were, in fact, not so useless at all, yet she was never able to even though her own skills had increased. Over time he'd become more tolerant of her, but would give her nothing more of himself, which had frustrated her to no end. Much like herself, he never allowed anyone to get too close. Refina had always wondered if Dilandau had known about her feelings, and had deliberately kept her at bay just to see her squirm. It sounded like something he would do. And if that was what he'd done, then it had worked, for soon every single thought became consumed by him. It had taken every ounce of her will to keep herself in control of her desires so that no one would know. A captain did not have the time to pine away after an object of affection. But there had been many late nights in the training center working herself to the bone to escape the ever increasing, alien tides of violent emotion. She had never in her life felt so strongly about anything or anyone. Not even her driven sense of duty or patriotism could compare with the sheer torment of being in love. At times, it had felt like she had been going mad.

_Stupid fool I was, _Refina chided herself again with a wistful smile. _Perhaps it would have just been better for me to have told you, Dilandau. But you wouldn't have thought much for me or my feelings. Love was something neither of us had much use for. Until I fell in love against my better judgement. So much the better. It can't be helped now. Maybe one day our paths will cross again, if you're alive somewhere._

Indeed. Dilandau's fate had been a puzzle. No one had ever heard anything about him since the last days of the war. It had naturally been assumed that he'd been killed even though he would have been more valuable alive. It was as though he had simply ceased to exist; as if his life had never been. But there remained a tiny, secret spark of hope in Refina's heart that he was still out there.

She was content to let herself indulge in the past for a while longer. There was no one around to see, no one that she had to guard herself from. And what else was there? Her future was looking shorter and bleaker by the day. She'd thought of escape, yes, but where would she flee to? There was nowhere for her to go. It was a familiar feeling by now, one that she had been forced to struggle with during her internment. Her entire sense of purpose had been stolen from her.

Refina stopped her pacing and leaned against the stone wall, gritting her teeth as she tried to quash the temptation to simply give in, to let herself wither away, eaten up by despair.

_I guess I have no choice but to let Fate decide on what will happen to me, _she realized as the proverbial gears began to turn._ I will not go down easily, but I must keep my wits about me. Surely there are weaknesses even within a place like this. There must be ways to find them, use them to my advantage. _

She felt herself smile slowly at that thought. Everyone had a weakness of some kind, no matter how proud or powerful they made themselves out to be. She'd wasted quite enough time allowing herself to languish. Even though she knew that the odds were against her, she felt as though she had to do something, make one last stand, even if it got her nowhere. She had to try.

--

Van Fanel had a lot on his mind.

Being a king was a job that required not only excellent organizational skills, a willingness to self-sacrifice, and a lot of patience, but being king trying to rebuild your country heaped on extra stress by the truckloads. Unfortunately for Van, he only had one of the above listed abilities, which made the task even more difficult. Organization and patience? Not hardly. This was a kid whose middle name was "Punch First, Ask Questions Later," whose mind operated on the pretty simple, straightforward levels of "Kill Enemy, Rescue Damsel In Distress, Save the World." He was genetically engineered to be the brash, hot-tempered hero in his life's story. And being the tender, hormonal age of fifteen didn't help either. While most teenagers suffered through acne, growing pains, crushes, and rebelliousness, Van had to suffer through bureaucracy, court etiquette, jail time, capture, invasions, and a psychotic old man who thought screwing around with the concept of Fate had been a good idea.

Van, however, did hold his people's interests close to his heart, and to him, that was all that mattered. His artlessness, energy, and generosity made him very popular with his subjects. But it wasn't such a bad thing to have more rational friends like Allen Schezar, who had at least a ten year head start of being level-headed and decisive.

Hitomi Kanzaki had also been a major aid in pushing Van to develop himself into something resembling a mature leader. All right, so she had been from the Mystic Moon. And her hair had been short like a boy's, and her clothes were weird, and her psychic visions had freaked him out, but beyond the cries of "I'm having another vision!" and "Oh, no, Van!" and her occasional sulkiness, there had been a lot more to the girl. She was kind and supportive of her friends as well as him, perceptive, and determined. And while he had at first thought her an annoying burden, he'd grown to love her. She'd helped him through the darkest times of his life.

And now she was gone.

The Mystic Moon had called her home, leaving him feeling completely empty without her. There was an ache in his chest whenever he thought of her, and he felt lost. He needed her advice, her intuition, her companionship. Merle was no longer enough.

The young king sighed, and glanced up to where the ancient armor Escaflowne was seated. It had been in his family for generations, passed on from father to son by Right of Succession. Folken, his elder brother, should have been the one to inherit it.

Van squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

No, no more sad thoughts today.

He looked at the guymelef again, studying the way it's giant ruby stone energist gleamed, its smooth ceramic plates. It was resting, but he had an eerie feeling that it was watching him. Considering the blood pact that bound him to the machine, it probably wasn't impossible. He remembered in grisly detail the effects of such a pact; that whenever Escaflowne was damaged, his body was wounded in the same place. He had nearly bled to death because of it during a gruesome battle between the Zaibach captain Dilandau Albatou and himself. The Ispano themselves had to be called in by Dryden Fassa to repair the machine and save his life.

Van suppressed a shudder when the Ispano came to mind. They had designed Escaflowne, and their people were a mysterious, inter-dimensional race whose true nature was unknown. So it was with the white guymelef that had found its way into the Fanelian royal family. One could never be certain what Escaflowne could do, what the extent of its powers were, or even if it were a conscious being of its own. Zaibach had certainly thought it was important enough to ravage his country to get it. Van tried not to dwell on the particulars, but there were still many questions he had about Escaflowne that had been left unanswered.

_No time to think about it now,_ he told himself, getting to his feet. He usually came into this chamber early in the morning to get a moment to himself before resuming his royal duties, or when he wanted to escape them. It had been the first part of the castle to be rebuilt, but the rest of it would take years to restore it to the way it was.

_So much we have to do,_ Van thought, leaving the throne room and making his way outside. Merle would be waiting for him to make a report on how things were progressing. Good old Merle. Always there by his side.

_If only you were here too, Hitomi._


	3. Strategy Meetings and Morning Tea

AN: Yay! It's not dead, after all! Not too much happening in this chapter though, folks. Just more Van angst and building up the plot. Don't worry, though. It'll be moving along shortly.

--

Early morning sunlight streamed in through the large windows of Eries's tea room as she and Celena sat down to breakfast, casting dappled shadows on the tablecloth as it shone through the lacy curtains. The day promised to be beautiful; the storm last night had cleared away any lingering clouds, leaving the sky a brilliant, warm blue. Even Millerna had joined them, wanting to spend a little time with her sister before having to deal with the usual stuffy counselors and ministers waiting to discuss the morning's business.

It must have been some cosmic joke, for Celena had never felt any more shrouded within her own inner darkness. She sat hunched over her meal of porridge and toast, her mind in a maelstrom. Her haunted blue eyes refused to look at the two princesses sitting across from her, for fear of what they might betray. She had barely spoken a word since she'd woken up, nor touched her food, still too shocked and disturbed upon recollection of the night before. Or rather, the fact that she couldn't recollect very much of it at all. She had been angry. She remembered that much. She'd been angry at Allen and everyone else around her...she'd paced her bedroom...

And then what?

It was all blank after that. Between that time and when she'd awakened this morning, there was nothing. Nothing but those frightening sensations, the feelings that lingered even when true memory was lacking. There had been a wild, elemental desire to kill, the desire for revenge, the desire to see blood just for pleasure. The yearning to destroy. The delicious heat of fire burning, burning...

It made her shudder.

_What's wrong with me?_ Celena wondered. _Am I really ill after all? Was Allen right? Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I...I actually wanted to kill somebody. I wanted...I wanted to kill him! I wanted to watch my home burn! Why would I think those things? It was like they were someone else's thoughts. Not mine at all. I might be angry at my brother, but I would never want to hurt him!_

"Celena, are you all right?"

Her head snapped up to see Eries staring at her with concern, Millerna also watching her with sympathetic eyes as she sipped at her tea. She was keenly aware of how the sunlight behind them caught in their blond hair, giving both a radiance that somehow made her feel sick.

"Yes,"she replied hesitantly, coloring a bit at being caught with her mind wandering around, "I–I just don't think I slept very well. I –I had a rather bad dream. That's all."

Eries didn't miss the caution with which the girl spoke. Narrowing her green eyes skeptically, she took in Celena's tense posture, the way she seemed ready to jump at the slightest disturbance. Her eyes had the wild glint of terror and nervous exhaustion, her face drawn and sallow.

"You do look tired," chimed in Millerna, setting down her delicate porcelain cup. "Why don't you try eating something? I'm sure you'd feel better."

Celena shook her head.

"No. I'm really not hungry."

"Are you sure?"Eries asked, her tone unintentionally taking on a slight coercive quality that mothers usually used to get their children to obey them.

The girl clenched her fists underneath the tablecloth, swallowing down a spike of irritation at the way she was being talked down to, a glare suffusing her features for a moment before she again shook her head.

"I don't want anything."

Sighing lightly, Eries gestured for a maid to come and clear Celena's plates away, displeased by the waste of food. She never knew what to do or say when Celena retreated into herself, which was often; never had any idea as to how to reach her through her seemingly impenetrable barriers. It was frustrating, how she could never truly read her, or know what was the girl was thinking. All Eries could do was bear along and try as best she could to care for her and educate her, even though she always had the feeling that Celena resented this. The girl never looked at her with any warmth, only with a cool, indifferent expression with disdain occasionally glinting in her eyes. She never talked of her own initiative, only answering when Eries or someone else prodded her. It stung, even though Eries tried to tell herself that it wasn't personal, it was just that Celena didn't know her very well yet, or it was an effect of whatever had happened to her. A part of her wanted to get angry at Allen for leaving her with his sister, but in the end, what else could he have done? There had been no one else he'd trusted enough, no other place he'd felt was safe enough.

"Are you going to see Father today?"

Eries turned to face her younger sister, still concerned over Celena's obvious agitation.

"Yes,"she answered. "I haven't been visiting him as often as I should. I worry that he isn't going to last much longer."

Millerna, her face usually so open and cheerful, pursed her lips as she thought of Grava, the once robust and ruthless king and doting father now wasting away in his bed, having apparently lost his will to live after she had run off after Allen and Zaibach had come for Hitomi on her wedding day. She couldn't deny her feelings of guilt every time she looked his gaunt, ashen face. It was partly because of her guilt that she hadn't visited him very often at first after assuming her role as regent; if she hadn't been so childish, he wouldn't have gotten ill in the first place. It was only until Eries had assured her that it was all in the past that she had mustered up the courage to see him. And Eries, as usual, had been right, because what had happened six months ago no longer mattered; it was only the time she had left with him now.

She nodded. "I wish I could come with you, but you know how those ministers are. They're worried _I _won't last long."

Eries smiled wanly at her sister's attempt at humor.

"I know. But I can't blame them. They're wanting to make sure Asturia is on the right path to rebuild."

Millerna let out a dramatic sigh, unable to sequester her usual effervescence for very long.

"You can't imagine all the issues they're arguing about right now. And all the paperwork I have to go through. It's maddening sometimes."

"You know you can come to me if you need advice, right?"

"Sister, I think you'd have been better for Regent. You always know what to do."

"Not always,"Eries replied with a slightly bitter laugh. "Not always. Think of this as good practice; the more you listen to your counselors, the more you'll learn from them and learn to make decision's accordingly. Always remember that you have the final word. They can only present you with ideas. A good ruler will listen to all ideas and chose the course that best benefits the country."

"See what I mean?" Millerna replied with a teasing grin. "I never would have thought of all that."

"That's because you're still young and inexperienced. They'll try to take advantage of that, but don't let them. It's an enormous responsibility, but you will have to get used to it."

Shaking her head, this time in playful exasperation, Millerna began to eat her porridge. Eries permitted herself a small smile, grateful for the levity that her sister brought with her. Gods knew she needed it.

"Have you decided on what to do with that Zaibach prisoner?" she asked as she turned her own attention to her breakfast.

"No,"Milerna said with a little roll of her eyes. "That's one of the issues being argued about the most. About half of the ministers want her executed, but the other half want her interrogated. And what little I could get out of her is mostly what we already knew. I don't know if she's deliberately withholding information, or if she really doesn't know anymore than what she's been told. Then again, it's not as if she's a willing talker."

Eries glanced over at her curiously.

"Is she difficult?"

Millerna made a disdainful face, as if Eries had really had to ask such a question. Clearly, her meetings with the Zaibach captain hadn't been going very well.

"Terribly. In the past few weeks she hasn't even spoken a single word. She just glares at me. She's got a lot of pride."

"I would imagine she would. It seems interrogation is best for now. I wouldn't allow her too much more time."

"I'm thinking that myself."

"What's her name?"

The air of fragile serenity and lightheartedness abruptly shattered at that softly spoken question. The princesses had nearly forgotten about the silent Celena sitting across from them, who, up until that moment, had been twining her fingers in her muslin skirt and listening intently to their every word. Now she was staring at both of them directly, a thing she'd hardly ever done before, her pale eyes curiously intense and alert.

Eries and Millerna exchanged uncertain glances, hesitant to answer Celena. Eries especially was fearful of what might happen should she begin to talk about the Zaibach prisoner in any more detail. Would it be another trigger? The expression on the girl's face was enough to make her nervous. But, surely only a name couldn't...If she just gave the name and left it at that...maybe it wouldn't be so awful.

Inhaling deeply, Eries relaxed her grip on the arms of her chair.

"Her name is Refina."

The silence following was palpable with a crackling tension as Eries and her sister studied Celena's response...and began breathing again after a moment when nothing seemed to be happening; the girl merely narrowed her eyes as she let the information sink in, silently mouthing the name to herself as if she'd heard it before. A small, barely conscious part of her said this was so. She ought to know this name, ought to know the face to whom it belonged, yet she could picture nothing.

"She's from Zaibach?"

"Yes."

Another thoughtful pause.

"Can I see her?"

The looks Eries and Millerna gave each other this time were of unadulterated horror. By the gods! Who knew what could happen with that repressed other lurking within her? Allowing that possibility was simply unthinkable!

"No."

Celena met the sudden harsh tone with a puzzled stare.

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'?"exclaimed Eries. "She's dangerous! I can't have you around such a person."

"You won't let me around anyone."

"You know you mustn't until you're well again,"explained the princess coolly.

Open defiance now showed itself in Celena's face; her pallid face was now flushed, her blue eyes seeming to flash and glow with a barely contained violence.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not ill! I don't _feel_ ill! I'm perfectly fine!"

"Celena, please, don't raise your voice at the table."

Open defiance was now turning into a snarl as a darkness settled in over her pale face. Celena opened her mouth to retort when Millerna quickly stepped in to keep the tension from escalating any further.

"You know, Eries, it really wouldn't be so bad to let her come and go a little more," she said, her voice calm and diplomatic. She cast a quick, sympathetic glance at the girl, whose eyes were still glittering with anger. If anyone had even a little understanding of an overbearing, authoritative older sibling, Millerna did. It wasn't that long ago when she had been shouting at Eries herself, demanding the recognition that she was an adult and could make her own decisions. While Millerna didn't know all the specifics regarding Celena's "condition", she could see that keeping the girl stuffed inside her older sister's apartments wasn't contributing to her health.

Eries snapped her attention to Millerna, clearly irritated at having her word thwarted. Leaning in, she pitched her voice low to keep Celena from overhearing, yet her tone was expressly firm.  
"Millerna, you are not responsible for her. I don't want _any_ chances of her relapsing. We shouldn't even have brought up Zaibach in front of her just now. You know as well as I do that anything slightly familiar to...you know, may have consequences that none of us are prepared to deal with. What would I tell Allen if that happened?"

But her sister didn't back down. Millerna was Regent now, and held the older woman's gaze.

"Look, I'm not trying to take your responsibility away from you. I just think it would be good for her to get out a bit. Maybe to a bazaar or something like that. I'm certainly not suggesting that you let her see the prisoner. You can't keep her here forever. Why don't you take her with you at least when you go visit Father?"

"Why on earth would I want to do that? Take her to see someone who's ill?"

"Please, sister. Do it as a favor to me, if nothing else."

Eries squeezed her eyes shut, her expression collapsing into one of weariness and resignation as she expelled a heavy sigh. She turned her unhappy gaze back to Celena, who was still radiating a menacing aura. A charged moment of silence pulsed between them, before the elder woman spoke.

"Very well. She may come, but only this once. Celena, please be ready in fifteen minutes."

...

"We've reinforced the outer wall here, here, and here," said Ruhm, one clawed finger scratching slightly on the parchment as he moved it from point to point. A crude map of the Fanelian capital was drawn on it, detailing only necessary features that needed the most attention and repair, like the castle and the defensive wall circling the city. Ruhm had been the first to offer help, as his tribe had been in service to Fanelia and its royal family for generations. Van could not have been more grateful for the beast-man's aid. Currently, Ruhm was in charge of overseeing the progress of the outer wall, doubling its thickness to make it less easy to crumble should there be another attack in the future.

Van bent over the map, Merle beside him as always, peering at it with interest. They were gathered in the council hall of the castle, not all of which had been completely restored. There was still a gaping hole in the southern wall where one of Zaibach's guymelefs had burst through and stones littered the corners along with shreds of once beautifully woven tapestries.

Merle looked askance at Van, seeing how his profile was beginning to become less boyish and more hardened, more like a king. But underneath that sharp expression he now wore, she could still sense that quality of gentleness that detested the bloodshed that kingship sometimes brought.

_He's so much like his mother,_ she thought, and a pang of sadness surged through her at the memory of Varie. She'd been so beautiful, yet so melancholy, as if she'd always known that her life would be one of tragedy. Merle saw that same melancholy in Van.

_He thinks too much about what he's lost. His brother. His parents. Balgus. Even Hitomi. He never really had time to grieve for them. Poor Lord Van. _

"Some parts of that wall haven't been maintained for quite a while," Ruhm's gruff voice continued, breaking into Merle's thoughts. "That's part of why it was so easy for Zaibach to break through. That and the main gate, which we've decided to strengthen with steel plating, if Your Majesty will permit us."

Van nodded.

" Good work. I'll be along shortly to inspect it. Merle, what's the status of the relief effort?"

The cat-girl's ears perked at the sound of her name and she sat up a little straighter.

"A little better than a few weeks ago, Lord Van," she answered. "But it's still tough to get all the debris cleaned out and enough resources for homes and food without very many people. The soldiers that Freid sent just aren't enough."

Van sighed heavily, his brows knitting frustration over his dark red-brown eyes. Freid had suffered the exact same fate as Fanelia, having been almost completely obliterated by Zaibach and losing its beloved Duke. Now it was just as crippled, just as in need of aid as they were, and the help was short in coming.

"I know that, Merle, but Freid can't spare any more men,"said Van. "It's a miracle in itself that they offered to send anybody at all."

"Well, what about Asturia?" Merle demanded, crossing her arms defiantly and scowling. "We've barely seen any of them around here The war hardly even touched them They've got plenty of people to help and yet they're not doing too much of anything except for Allen and Lord Dryden."

"Asturia is having a lot of internal problems, from what I hear," interjected Ruhm. "Their king is very ill and with Regent Millerna's attention on her father, the government seems to be at a standstill, but she's doing what she can. Not to mention that Zaibach captain they've captured. There still hasn't been a decision on what to do with her."

"Her?" asked Van. He'd known about a Zaibach captain being held in Asturia, but had never heard anything more until now. The mention of her being female was a bit surprising. "I didn't think Zaibach allowed women in the military."

Ruhm shrugged.

"Heck if I know. I'm just repeating what I hear from the Freidian soldiers. Apparently, she was one hell of a fighter so they let her in, or something like that. I don't know much more than that. They should have hung her by now, that's what I think It may be they're just holding off because she's a woman, but in my opinion, woman or not, she's still Zaibach She deserves what's coming to her."

Van didn't reply. A deep gloom settled over his face at Ruhm's words, bringing to mind terrifying memories of another Zaibach captain he'd crossed swords with more than once; Dilandau Albatou.

He tried to suppress a shudder as he recalled those bloodthirsty, hellish red eyes that had seemed to glow like fiery pits when they'd fought. There was no way he had been human. His strength and the delight he took in inflicting pain had seemed otherworldly. Dilandau had lived only to kill; it didn't seem to matter who, until Van's sword tip had found the boy's cheek, leaving a scar that had turned the whole of Dilandau's malevolence on him from that moment until the end.

_He might be gone,_ Van thought._ But I'll always see him in Allen's sister. I can never look at her again. I can barely even look at _him_ sometimes just because of what I know. _

He raised his head and, seeing his companions giving him concerned glances, shook it lightly to return his focus to the problems at hand.

"What's her name?" he asked, breaking the heavy silence that had surrounded them.

"Ah," said Ruhm, wrinkling his heavy brows. "I'm not entirely sure. I hear it said a lot of different ways. Raphine, Refinu, Refina. Something like that. Why the sudden interest, Lord Van?"

"I think I _should_ be interested," the young king replied, narrowing his eyes a bit at the beast-man. "For Fanelia's sake. Just knowing that there's still a high-ranking Zaibach soldier alive..." he sighed again. "Ruhm. I don't know. It's just all too much sometimes."

Ruhm studied him with a compassionate, yet stern expression.

"Lad," he said, his voice soft and dropping all formalities and speaking to the boy just as a friend. "No one ever said this was going to be easy. You've got a lot on your shoulders. I know you didn't ask to be king, but we don't often get to choose our own paths. Sometimes we just do what has to be done. You don't have to go at it alone. You've got a lot of people and a lot of friends willing to help you, Merle and I included. So anything we can do, tell us. But don't push us away. We love this country too and we want to do everything we can, all right?"

_He senses Van's grief too,_ Merle saw.

"Lord Van?" she said softly, cocking her head sympathetically at his brooding. "Are you all right?"

Van's eyes refocused on her and he gave her a lopsided, brittle smile.

"I'm fine," he said and gave her an affectionate rub on the head. "I'm glad that I have you two around. I appreciate what you're doing for me and Fanelia. I couldn't do it without you. I just--"

"Miss Hitomi."

A pause. Merle immediately regretted voicing his thoughts out loud at the brief flicker of pain in his eyes. She bit her lip and flattened her ears in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Lord Van."

"Don't be. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I loved her. I _still_ love her. I'd give anything to bring her back."

"I'd bring her back for you if I could, Lord Van," Merle replied, pressing her face against his shoulder and twining her arms around him.

Ruhm watched in pity but said nothing. Van needed this moment to acknowledge his feelings. There had been enough words. He had to mourn and let himself be human before again assuming the mantle of leadership.

At length, he said, "My Lord?"

Van looked up, his face resolute.

"Yes, I know. Merle, let's make our rounds. And Ruhm?"

"Sire?"

"Keep me informed about the Zaibach captain. Anything you hear, bring it to me."

Ruhm dipped his head in confirmation.

"And one more thing."

The beast man glanced up, awaiting instructions, but only saw Van smile, a genuine, kind smile full of gratitude.

"Thank you."


	4. Wheels In Motion

A/N: Phew! This chapter has been long in the making. Nasty thing called real life and the holidays have kept me from getting this done. Also writer's block, which wasn't so much not knowing what I wanted to write as to_ how_ to write it.

Lots going on in this chapter. And it looks like things are only going to get more difficult from here on out.

*******************

Celena had never seen King Aston. She'd only heard him described by servants or by his daughters. The limited pieces of information seemed to paint a portrait of a man larger than life; a true king who was as ruthless, ambitious, cunning, and strong as he was an attentive, if not somewhat overindulgent father. His commanding physical presence and skilled swordsmanship had made him a legend long before his time. This was a man whom nothing could conquer.

What lay before her now in the hushed, heavy royal suite hardly seemed legendary. This "king of kings" was a pitiful, shrunken figure covered nearly to the chin with a deep purple comforter, whose labored breathing was a constant reminder of the precious few minutes ticking down to the last grain of sand in the hourglass. Sallow skin stretched over a heavily boned face, which, in its youth, might have been ruddy and glowing with health. A greying handlebar mustache sagged over blue-tinted, thick lips. Eyes which were once bright, calculating and lively barely seemed to register any of their surroundings behind flickering, restless lids. He seemed in a constant state of half-consciousness; caught between the realm of nightmares and the painful waking reality of his life slipping away.

This was no king, Celena thought, as she and Eries neared the sickbed. This was a shadow of a once great hero, a conqueror now conquered by that which no one could escape from.

She honestly didn't even know why she was here in this chamber that reeked of sickness. But she supposed that anything which might divert another day of useless activities couldn't be altogether bad, even if it was coming to watch someone die.

Celena felt a slight chill prickle her spine as she realized she didn't feel guilty thinking that.

She kept her distance, not caring to get any closer than she already was, choosing instead to stand nearer to the footmen about halfway to the door. Eries naturally, was kneeling beside her father, clasping her hands lovingly over where his were folded underneath his blanket. Dr. Shefali was also there, but much to Celena's relief, his attention was entirely fixed on the king. He hadn't even looked up to notice her coming.

She watched, pale eyes taking in the way the little doctor's balding head bowed down over Aston's chest as he held a stethoscope over his heart to check his pulse. The expression on his dark, round face said more than any words could; the drawn lips, furrowed heavy brows, the resignation in the eyes. Aston's time was near.

She'd be lying to herself to say she cared.

The newness of her surroundings quickly lost interest. There really wasn't much to look at anyway. A more artistically inclined person could probably appreciate the finer details of the king's suite; the enormous feather bed sumptuously draped in purple silk sheets with the royal monogram, the gilt mahogany bedposts carved into the sinuous, powerful figure of Jichia, Asturia's most beloved deity; the massive, glittering quartz chandelier spreading out its lit candles above them with light that that would have been a warm amber if it hadn't been diffused with the darkness of death.

Celena took one brief glance at all of it before sighing inwardly and electing instead to replay the conversation she and Eries had just a half hour before. Darkness and sadness were hardly new things to her, anyhow.

Her thoughts again drifted to the Zaibach captain Eries had been so reluctant to speak of.

_Refina..._

She tried to put together an image of what kind of person a name like that would go to. It had a feminine ring to it, and it definitely was foreign.

So why did in Jichia's name did it sound so familiar? Why did she find her focus in that name?

She shuddered, absentmindedly raising her hand to her right cheek and grazed her fingertips along the smooth skin as she again wondered where all of these sudden, intrusive thoughts were coming from. The feeling of otherness rose up again within the darkened back corners of her mind, far past her ability to deny its existence. Try as she might to play the denial game, to convince herself that neither the girl imprisoned in the dungeons beneath her nor the faces in her dreams were anyone she knew, a small bit of her consciousness protested otherwise; a niggling mental itch that she couldn't scratch. And the longer she sat there, the longer she thought on it, the more incessantly demanding it became.

_I need to stop this! Why can't I get rid of this strange feeling that I'm not supposed to be here? _

Sighing in frustration, Celena shifted uncomfortably in her chair, hand returning to her lap as she screwed her eyes shut to concentrate on something more normal that would hopefully quell whatever lurked within. She eventually settled on Asturian geography, ticking off the country's major physical features memorized during one of Eries's boring lectures.

_The Chattal Mountains, Pallas, Oviedo, the second largest city in Asturia, Somiedo Lake...The Ballota River..._

Eries, meanwhile, was also engaged in her own form of denial...the denial most everyone feels when they see a loved one wasting away before their eyes, refusing to accept the fact that they will not live forever. She cast her anxious glance at the doctor, hoping..._praying _that he wasn't going to tell her what she already knew deep in her heart.

Shefali sighed and shook his head as he pulled away and took the stethoscope plugs out of his ears, his brown eyes falling on Eries with a sympathetic expression.

"I'm truly sorry, Your Highness,"he said softly, speaking slowly as he tried to deliver his grim prognosis as gently as he could. He could see the hidden tears behind the princess's eyes and regretted that he had to be the one to tell her something that he knew was going to devastate her. "His pulse is even weaker than it was last night. I doubt he'll last the week."

Eries nodded and squeezed her eyes shut to force herself to handle the situation

maturely and not give into the childish temptation to start crying and blaming others for

things they couldn't control. She tightened her grip on the bony hands beneath her own, powerfully aware of how frail they seemed now. She could remember those same hands lifting her up when she was a child, so huge and strong they had been then.

_My family is getting smaller and smaller,_ she thought, opening her eyes to look down on the once familiar face, now contorted with the effort of drawing breath. _Mother. Then Marlene. Now Father. Soon it will only be Millerna and I. What are we going to do? Father, who am I going to go to for guidance? Who will Asturia look to when you're gone? Millerna isn't ready yet!_

Her eyes drank in every line, every wrinkle, trying memorize all of his features and hold onto them before she lost them forever.

The king stirred then, his small, faded eyes fluttering open long enough to focus muzzily on her. He strained a moment, as though he could not place her face and then a weak smile of recognition twitched across his lips. She felt his hands move beneath his blanket as he tried to return her touch.

"Eries..." he whispered, his voice tinged with the death-rattle, as raspy as a carpet of dry autumn leaves...and just as frail. "My daughter."

"Father?"she replied softly, reaching up with her right hand to stroke the feeble, sagging skin of his cheek. "Yes, it's me. Can you see me?"

"Yes," Aston wheezed. She could tell it was taking every last ounce of strength he had just to talk. "Millerna...where is...she?"

"She cannot be here now. She is with her counselors."

He was a moment processing this. Then he nodded, a barely discernible rock of the head as he remembered.

"Aahh...She is working hard...then?"

Eries smiled in spite of herself.

"Yes, father. Very hard. She's grown so much."

Aston chuckled, a terrible sound of dry heaves more akin to the gurgling chokes of a dying dog. He inhaled sharply before he spoke again. The skin of his cheek felt cold now.

"My kingdom...is...safe hands...I have...no regrets."

Eries flinched at those words, the dread of what he was going to say next a tangible, physical pain lancing through her chest. She felt a grimace pass over her face as though she'd been struck.

_Father, don't say it! _she begged silently, the little girl inside of her selfishly and desperately willing him to remain, to see him smile one more day, to hold one more time, to talk with and share inside jokes. To reminisce about the simpler, happier times of childhood.

_Please don't say it!_

"Take care...of her...See that she becomes...good queen...tell her...that I love her."

_Father...don't!_

"As...I love you. Goodbye...Eries....I go now...to your mother...."

With his last heartbeat, a smile spread over his face, warm, content, and fully at peace. There was no more he could ask for now. His beloved Therese was waiting for him. She would greet him with open arms, and he would once again gaze upon the beautiful, kind face he had not seen in thirty years. His strong Eries was beside him now, and he knew that Asturia would once again become a powerful and magnificent kingdom under Millerna and Dryden's rule. He could rest with no fear.

Closing his eyes, he lay back on his pillow and was still.

"Father...?"

Her voice came out in a flimsy, choked sob. She waited for him to open his eyes again...to start speaking again, even as she felt the erratic rising and falling of his chest stopping and his heart grow silent.

"Father..?"

A warm, pudgy brown hand covered her own to draw it away from her father's face. Looking up through watery eyes, she saw Dr. Shefali stepping forward, his expression stern yet compassionate. He gave it a quick squeeze to show his sympathy before letting go to bring the cover up over the king's head to signal that he had now passed on.

"Time of death is nine o'clock, White Moon, Day Twenty Five. My deepest condolences, Your Highness. I'll make sure the proper people are notified."

Eries hardly heard anything he was saying. The numb cocoon of shock had wrapped itself tightly about her senses, leaving the room suddenly too hot and the air too hard to breathe.

_My father is dead. My father is dead! _

_It's always the woman who loses! And I'm always that woman! Why is it always me who has to lose everything? And Millerna? What am I going to tell Millerna?_

"Your Highness?"

Shefali's voice echoed in her head, a distant beacon on the darkened, fog wrapped seas of her emotion. She pulled out her thoughts, shaking her head lightly and taking a deep breath to still the tears that wanted to fall, along with the crushing sense of powerlessness and loss. There would be time for that later, but now she had to force herself to gain control and perform her necessary duties. Dr. Shefali was waiting for her orders...and the kingdom would soon be waiting for the next step. It was time for her sister and her husband to ascend and take the throne. And she...well, although she was not in line for the throne, she was, for all intents and purposes now the head of the Aston family.

Nodding, she exhaled sharply and spoke, rallying what little strength was left to her.

"Send word to Millerna. Get everything in order. I want the body sent to the Jichia temple for the final rites. Have an appointment made for me to speak with the head priest to arrange the funeral and make an official announcement to the kingdom. If you need me, I'll be in my apartments."

In the midst of this sudden fit of action Celena stood alone and temporarily forgotten; she stared bemusedly at the shrouded figure on the bed, for she had never actually seen anyone die...and wondered distantly why she felt nothing. Death meant separation and sadness. Yet try as she might no emotion came, not even the tiniest scrap of sympathy. A hollowness settled in her stomach, leeching out any compassionate emotion she might have had.

Eries brushed swiftly past her, clearly too occupied with her own mental planning to remember her charge. The girl stared after her, narrowing her eyes a bit at her retreating form before turning her head back to look at Dr. Shefali in awkward silence. He was also occupied; packing up his instruments with slow, reserved movements.

Giving the hated doctor one last glare, Celena turned and left.

........................

Eries could not concentrate.

Quill pens and parchment paper lay scattered over the top of her desk, letter of state waiting to be written to tell the kingdom and allied nations the news of her father's passing. It was certainly a task easily left to someone else, but she felt compelled to be the one to do it; This was a personal as well as a national matter, and the greater part of the world was in turmoil as it was. A statement directly from her as Asturia's second princess would let others know that there were indeed real people who lived within the palace walls, and that they suffered as much as the common man and it would give them something to identify and sympathize with. This was no time for crisp, haughty addresses from a bureaucratic institution. Outreach was crucial now. Yet the longer and harder she stared at those blank sheets of paper, the more difficult it was to think of what she wanted to say, of what words she wanted to use.

But she _always_ knew what to say. She _always _knew what to do. She'd made it her business to be so for twenty three years, becoming the moral and emotional center of her family in the absence of their mother; guiding, protecting, and supporting her way through many a storm. She was a leader, a doer. Who would have taken care of Millerna if not her? Who would have comforted her father and Millerna when Marlene had died if not her? She had groomed herself to be able to handle any situation with patience, strength, and a level head. Only now it was turning out that some situations struck far too close to home for patience, strength or a level head to be the oars to steer her through this particular storm. Not even her elder sister's death had left her feeling so starkly vulnerable and utterly helpless. But then again, when Marlene had died, her father had been younger and healthier, Millerna had needed her, and she hadn't had someone else's mentally volatile sibling thrust into her life.

She really thought she'd be able to handle this. Now it was becoming clear how incredibly mistaken she was. Cracks had undoubtedly begun to appear in her aforementioned pillar, and she was running out of strength.

And when Millerna finally appeared in her doorway later that afternoon with tears shimmering in her large eyes and wearing a lost, fearful expression, Eries knew she couldn't do it alone anymore.

............................

Later that night, while the rest of the household sank into deep, grief-heavy slumber, Celena tossed and turned on twisted bedsheets as another series of dreams ravaged her already profoundly damaged psyche. Blipvert images exploded across Celena's inner eye, vivid colors and snatches of sound spinning madly before her in a dizzying merry-go-round of the senses. She felt as though she were plummeting through an endless expanse of someone else memories with nothing to stop her, nothing to catch her. Faces disappeared as quickly as they came into focus, only to be lost again before she could recognize them. Half-caught words echoed in her ears, the voices unfamiliar.

_Is this a dream? What's happening to me? _

Then the spinning began to slow and finally come to a shuddering stop. The blur at the edge of her vision began to clear, revealing a large, somewhat rocky field, stretching out under a dark, threatening sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning licked at the clouds on the horizon.

_Where am I?_

A large shape suddenly dropped out of the sky, shaking the ground slightly as its heavy weight slammed to earth. It was white, humanoid in shape and with a long cape flowing out behind it.

_A guymelef? _

The giant reached behind to its back to draw out a long sword, settling into an attack stance as though in wait. The head turned side to side as its occupant quested about for an opponent.

_Why am I seeing this? _

Sixteen more humanoid shapes fell from sky, all of them dark blue except for one, which was blood-red. It took Celena a moment to realize that what she was looking at was a squadron of some kind, with the red guymelef as the leader.

_What is going on? I don't know this!_

The blue guymelefs quickly moved to surround the white one, leaving it cornered. Its only way out would be to fight the one in red. It seemed more than prepared to do so as she saw its helm turn to focus solely on its primary opponent.

She heard a voice then, a low voice, silky with self-assurance drifting out from the red guymelef. A niggling feeling in the back of her mind put forward the suggestion that she should know this voice from somewhere, but she told that part of her mind that it was in no uncertain terms insane.

_**Okay people, the dragon hunt ends today! Attack!**_

Three of the blue guymelefs immediately hurled themselves at the white armor, swords drawn and raised to strike, but their enemy was quicker still. In one broad slash, the white guymelef's blade had completely sliced them in half, a strange silver liquid gushing from the inside of the machines like blood. Raising its fist as it ran, the white guymelef slammed it down on the helm of another blue. This time, real blood came gushing from the helm as both it and the soldier inside were crushed.

Celena gasped in disgust and felt herself recoil. She had never seen a real battle before, and grisly scene before her made her sick to her stomach.

But then, if that were so, why did this all feel so uncomfortably familiar, as though she almost knew what was going to happen next?

_No...Why..? Why is this happening?_ _STOP IT! I don't want to see it! _

But she was a helpless prisoner in her own mind, unable to escape. The white figure charged onwards in an unrelenting, feral bloodlust, its dark cape flaring out like the wings of a bat from hell as the lightning flickered about it in a phantasmagoric dance. Its sword effortlessly and mercilessly ripped apart another half dozen blue guymelefs, sending them flying to the ground where they exploded in balls of brilliant orange.

Pain shot through Celena as she watched, both mesmerized and terrified. Desperation gripped her, making her want, for some unknown reason, to run out in front of the guymelef and scream at it to stop killing the soldiers. Their dying shrieks made it almost unbearable, as though it were her own family that was being slaughtered in front of her. And yet, she didn't know them. It was only a dream–a nightmare. This couldn't be real! It wasn't real!

The voice she'd heard earlier spoke again.

_**Damn, he's fast! Stealth Cloaks!**_

To Celena's bewilderment, the remaining blue guymelefs shimmered and disappeared, melting into the landscape behind them. Now invisible, there was no possible way the white guymelef could find them.

Or so she thought. To her abject horror, the white guymelef's sword came slashing down precisely where the blue guymelefs stood, seeking them out as easily is if they were wearing brightly painted signs. One by one, they toppled over, broken and defeated to the now blood-soaked grass.

The air then became chillingly still, the only sound the rolling, immutable thunder. The white armor slowly turned to face the red, now the only enemy left. Yet the red guymelef simply stood there, making no move to attack or defend itself. It seemed rooted to the ground with fear, unable to act without the others, whose mangled corpses now littered the valley.

_**What is he? **_

_**WHAT IS HE? **_

_No! Stay away from me! Stay away! No! NO! _

Celena jolted awake to the sound of her own blood-curdling screams, thrashing wildly about in the tangled sheets until she sat upright, her whole body quivering violently. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps as she stared at her white hands with unfocused eyes, feeling a sudden rush of confusion when she failed to recognize them.

Her hands... Hadn't those hands been covered in red-plated black leather? She felt sure they had been just now.

No, that wasn't right It couldn't be right...

_But these aren't my hands! My hands don't look like this! This isn't--_

Celena fiercely shook her head back and forth with an anguished moan. None of it was right. The room wasn't right, the smell, the lighting, the way it was decorated for a little girl. The walls weren't white plaster. They were supposed to be stone with gas lamps inside glass sconces. And where was the keypad next to the door that programmed the locks?

_Not right. Not right. Not RIGHT!_

Her temples throbbed abominably and clapping her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut against the images that were now seared into her skull However much she tried to will them away, the dying faces of the soldiers kept flashing vividly before her. Oh, gods, the screaming! Why wouldn't they stop_ screaming?_

Breathing heavily, she buried her face in her hands, cold sweat beading down her spine and flushing her skin, reflecting from the dying embers in the fireplace in a feverish glow.

Gatti. Gatti would know what to do. He always knew what to do, what to say, to make her feel better. How many nights like this had he sat up with her, soothing her while the nightmares faded away?

Gatti. She must find him.

White fingers fumbled as she groped for the blanket's ends to tear it away, one hand still clutching at her throbbing head. She half stumbled her way out of bed and towards her door, wincing as the pain came over her in rocking waves. Gatti's quarters weren't far, just down the hall. She'd get him to take her to the infirmary and hopefully to something that would silence the echoing cries of so many battles ringing in her ears.

Celena groped for the door handle and wrenched it open, tottering precariously as she was assailed again by another rushing torrent of sublime, sharp blades of pain-memory that threatened to cleave her down to the core. Pausing briefly to brace herself with one hand against the wall, she slid and staggered half blind and nearly half mad down the dimly lit hallway. The murky, muted amber glow of the gas lamps created more shadows than they kept at bay, a physical metaphor for the very same mental hallways and mazes she was currently flailing through with equal blindness. The only thing that kept her feet moving was the red thread of Gatti pulling her through the labyrinth past the Minotaur towards the light of identity and end of her suffering. If she could only find him and the others, she reasoned, the universe would be set back on its rightful course of world domination under the twisted and misguided direction of the Emperor.

The Emperor? her mind flung back at her. She knew no Emperor. The closest she had ever come to a crowned head had been King Aston this afternoon as she had watched him die with Eries.

A wizened, ancient face stubbornly thrust its way to the forefront of her consciousness; small eyes heavily lidded with centuries of accumulated ancient and occult knowledge, the long bony nose and white skin that had probably not seen the sun since well before her own birth, all crowned with flowing white hair and beard like a prophet of times long past. He had certainly spoken like one; deep and withered voice croaking out veiled mystical portents of the future to come; the future he had wished to build.

The Emperor.

Yes. The Emperor. And she was on a mission for him. She was in charge of hunting down the artifact of the extinct Dragon Clan, and Gatti served under her. She was in the Vionne, the floating fortress that was like a city unto itself.

Yes, she was on the Vionne. And she was looking for her men.

Gatti. Chesta. Miguel. Guimel. Viole. Dalet.

Why was their quarters so far away? Hadn't they only been down the hall from hers? She didn't remember a sweeping, white marble staircase with glinting golden foil, nor the heavy brocade tapestries depicting what looked like mythological stories. The Vionne didn't have any such luxurious appointments. Practicality had ruled over decoration; cold steel in place of gold, rough stone in place of draperies.

Celena gripped the balustrade, feeling how cool and smooth it was to her fevered touch, suddenly groaning as her mind again lurched and spun its way in a mad caper and took her stomach along with it this time. She clenched her teeth and rode out the storm of hazy colors dancing behind her eyes and the creeping inner darkness that furiously howled against the crumbling wall of self as though it were upset with her inability to recognize and give it a voice.

Give it a _name._

Dizzily she made her way down, her nightgown completely soaked by now, unsure of how long she could hold out until she found her trusted second in command. What light that did burn from the lamps high above her made the shadows on the stairway seem to shift and undulate under her already unsteady feet, making for very slow progress.

Finally she made it to the bottom, where she stood in a daze, not knowing of where to go next. How could Gatti be so far? Was he always so far? Was she even in the Vionne at all?

Her head snapped sharply to the right as she thought she caught a faint flash of the blue armor her men wore disappearing down another long hallway thick with a heavy and oppressive darkness that seemed all too eager to swallow anything that came near.

She squinted, bleary eyes trying to focus on a flat and lifeless tableau of greys, blues, and blacks that all seemed to melt into each other with no distinction; an alien world of endless night. She pushed herself free from the balustrade and wandered towards that darkness, letting herself be swallowed and consumed as she continued her search. He was here, she felt certain. Gatti was here. And Guimel and the others. Not too far now.

Her footsteps grew slower as she fought against the weight of exhaustion, sheer will driving her to take one more step; one more foot in front of the other. As she passed more gas lamps, their dim light reflected in her wide, staring eyes that were clouded with waking memories and nightmares from two opposite extremes whose duality were very literally ripping her apart....sometimes glinting blue, sometimes sparking red.

Still she kept moving against the pain and the rising fear that she would never reach that which she was looking for. She went down yet another staircase, this time one of coarse stone that descended in a narrow passage. She had to tread more carefully here, the steepness of the steps and their rough texture scraped against the delicate skin of her feet and there was no balustrade to brace herself against. One wrong move could send her tumbling and possibly meeting an unpleasant end.

The silence and the stairs seemed to stretch into a small eternity. The air slowly grew damp and cooler the farther she went, carrying with it a slightly earthy scent. A distant part of her mentally frowned and wondered how that could be; the Vionne had always had a biting scent of metal, oil and rust.

She shivered as the cool air made contact with her damp nightgown, wrapping thin arms around herself to retain what little body heat she could. Her head still pounded, although the intensity of the pain and the sickening whirling of blurred images had receded like a black thunderhead; horrible and frightening, but with the promise of peace in its wake.

Celena reached the final step, toes hesitantly questing for firm earth beneath before gently stepping down.

She let out a small gasp of shock as the low lamp light revealed where she was, hurtling her mercilessly and abruptly out of the potent, chilling depths of her dreamworld and into the stark, solid present. Whoever or whatever had drawn her here dissolved as surely as the sun blazes through a morning mist to be forgotten once again, leaving the poor young girl confused and disoriented. She blinked long and hard, clearing away the fog to stare around her with new eyes.

A long, narrow block of cells stretched to either side, thick black bars effectively proclaiming this to be the dungeons of the palace.

_How...how did I end up here? _Celena thought in wonderingly, skittering backwards a few steps until her back grazed the wall behind her. She realized that she was alone down here; there were no guards, no footmen. No one aside from herself and the phantoms she had been chasing. _What...happened? _

Frantically, her hands skimmed the harsh stone to either side of her to search for a door, or a stairwell...anything which might lead her out and back into her own bed where she belonged. Eries would be furious when she---

A small movement caught Celena's eye. She stopped her unsuccessful search for the exit to look just off to her right into one of the cells.

In her initial panic and confusion, she had assumed she was alone. Now that she was standing still and taking a closer survey of her surroundings, she found that it wasn't so at all. For almost directly before her something...some_one_ sat on a small cot, the near dark having prevented Celena from seeing it at first glance.

The wan light reduced all detail down to a few spare brush strokes of an outline seemingly sculpted out of the shadows, a photograph in reverse. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Celena could see reddish highlights sparking in long, dark hair that was tied back into a tail, immediately marking the person inside the cell as female.

It was the voice, however, which confirmed it, floating out from the figure into the charged stillness with a single question:  
"Who are you?"


	5. A Plan

AN: I actually updated? Wow...Sorry this took so long. I admit I had difficulty with this chapter. I kept hitting a brick wall with the dialogue and I've been busy IRL. But lo, here it is, hot off the press!

* * *

The panic returned, choking Celena's throat and making her stutter for a few seconds. Still gripping the stone behind her, she took several deep breaths to quiet her rattling nerves and racing heart. She was still a little disoriented, and the fact that she was somewhere she shouldn't be and had no knowledge of how she had gotten there spooked her.

Needless to say, her answer was slow in coming, and she heard the figure sigh in audible frustration and the creaking of the cot as she rearranged herself into a more comfortable position.

Finally ready to let go of the reassuring solidity of the wall, Celena tentatively moved forward a few steps like a small child too afraid to leave their parents on their first day of school. The cold from the floor seeped into the soles of her feet and shivered reflexively, feeling the tiny pinpoints of goosebumps all over her arms.

She paused a few feet from the cell bars, hesitating. She knew she should turn around and run back up the stairs, but the presence of the girl in front of her was too strong to ignore. She could feel the smoldering glare shooting out at her from the darkness, waiting for Celena to answer her.

"Well, are you going to answer me or what?"

Celena started at the crispness of her tone; this girl, despite how young she was, obviously was very used to giving commands and equally used to immediately getting what she wanted in return. She could see by the poised way she sat and the cool alertness in her gaze that this was no ordinary peasant imprisoned for petty theft, but someone much more distinguished.

She was actually very pretty too, Celena saw, as her eyes further adjusted to the dimness of the cell, permitting her a closer study of the other girl's features. Large, thick-lashed brown eyes were the focus of her small, heart shaped face, which itself was framed by two long dark bangs, the rest pulled back in a long tail. Her skin was fair, but nowhere near as pale as Celena's and currently flushed with agitation. The innate self-assurance with which she held herself seemed at odds with her surprisingly small build; as though to make up for her lack of height, her spirit had only tempered itself into something much tougher...and sharper.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought I was alone in here..."

Celena's voice echoed weakly in the damp air around her, a pitiful, breathy squeak of a mouse being eyed by an indifferent feline. She was tingling all over now, but not from the cold; she had a sudden feeling of inevitability. This was a moment that had to happen, _would_ have happened—if not this way, then some other.

She was _supposed_ to be here.

The girl was still studying her suspiciously as she continued in a slightly stronger voice: "I—I'm Celena. Are you...are you the Zaibach soldier everyone's talking about?"

The girl's eyes narrowed even more, her features becoming openly hostile and looking quite ready to spit out something nasty. Then she seemed to think better of it, apparently deciding this nightgown wearing stranger not to be worth the effort; she merely let out a derisive "hmph" and rolled her eyes. Evidently she must be quite an entertaining topic, if young girls were willing to venture down to the dungeons to get a glimpse of her, and in the middle of the night no less. The thought made a self-deprecating smirk dart over her lips for a moment.

"_Captain_, if you want to be more correct,"she said sarcastically. "And yes, I'm that prisoner everyone's talking about, although I didn't realize I was so popular. I guess that means you already know my name."

"Refina...right?"

"That's right,"replied the prisoner with a mocking lilt in her voice. She was irritated at having her rest disturbed and being asked silly questions by a silly girl; undoubtedly she was a nobleman's daughter and sheltered. Her hesitating nature and shrinking-violet posture said as much. She looked absolutely terrified and bewildered; maybe thinking of the trouble she would get into when she returned to her gilded cage. Yet there was the slightest hint of awe and curiosity in those saucer eyes, as though she were meeting her favorite hero from a bedtime storybook.

Refina felt herself wince inside. The last thing she needed was a naïve, hero-worshipping child bothering her. It was enough that she had been pestered by Millerna for all those weeks.

On the other hand...

On the other hand...this Celena didn't seem very bright, and that was starting to look more like something she could use to her advantage. If this girl was as interested in her as she seemed, then Refina had herself a very handy tool. Celena was an insider, a member of the nobility, and perhaps able to access information that Refina certainly could not.

This was her chance, gift wrapped and delivered right to her doorstep. Why, it was almost like a touch of fate. If she couldn't forcibly break out of prison, then why not manipulate someone else into doing it for her?

Refina gave the girl a frosty smile, leaning forward with feigned interest, all the while enjoying this sudden turn of the tables.

"So, do you mind telling me what exactly you're doing down here so late, Miss Celena?"

Celena blushed deeply, averting her eyes as she struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation. She nervously tucked a loose curl behind one ear while her other hand twisted the soft fabric of her nightgown.

"I—I don't really know. I was dreaming. Then I woke up and I wasn't in my room. I must have been sleepwalking."

"Hmm. A bad dream, maybe?"

Refina was a little surprised at the reaction to her offhanded remark; Celena's hands clenched so tightly that the knuckles turned white and a visible shiver rocked her slender frame, betraying a deep, inexplicable fear of _something_ before she managed to regain control of herself. When she answered, her voice was quiet and haunted.

"Yes. A bad dream."

Sensing that she was treading on the edge of a dark precipice she had no intention of wandering into, Refina decided to test the waters more carefully.

"Maybe you should go back to your room, then. I don't think your mother would like it if she found you missing."

It was the most spectacularly wrong thing to say; Refina felt her rising good mood abruptly dashed as another tremor ran down Celena's body. If it had been possible, she would have sworn the air darkened around the girl, thick and heavy like black crepe.

_What is the matter with her? Is she crazy? _Refina wondered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she waited for the girl to pull herself together again.

"I don't have a mother," Celena replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "She's dead."

Well, that was hardly surprising. Plenty of people had lost loved ones in the war, and even before it hadn't been uncommon for children to grow up without parents. Refina herself was one of them.

She shrugged it off. It wasn't as if things could get any stranger at this rate. She needed to focus on getting herself out of here.

"I'm sorry," Refina said, although she was running a bit low on compassion at the moment.

Celena didn't respond; a slight lift of her thin shoulders might have been a shrug, but Refina couldn't tell. She seemed to have folded in on herself until only a small corner of her mind was even aware of anything around.

A long, awkward silence settled between them before the girl seemed to work her way back to the present, although her head still hung low and her voice was so soft Refina had to strain to hear her.

"It's okay. I don't really have any family except my brother, but he's always gone, so I'm stuck with Eries. She's nice, I guess, but..."

_Eries? As in, Princess Eries? _wondered Refina, her expression hardening at the mention of Millerna's older sister. She hadn't had the displeasure yet of meeting her, and hoped it would remain that way.

This was, however, quite a tantalizing piece of information.

"Eries?"she asked, pouncing on the name before the conversation moved in a different direction, not that it was moving much to begin with. "You mean the princess?"

"Yes,"Celena answered. "She looks after me. She---"

Another pause and shrug combination followed. It seemed to be her defining gesture, that of a little girl who couldn't be more lost than if you'd blindfolded her and spun her around until all sense of direction had blurred.

"She keeps telling me I'm sick. I don't know why. I don't feel sick. She won't let me go anywhere...She keeps making me learn all these stupid things. I really hate her sometimes."

"Why don't you just tell her to leave you alone then?"

"I do!"exclaimed Celena with a passion so sudden it made Refina involuntarily start and grab at the edge of her cot. "I do, but she won't listen! She just keeps telling me to finish my sewing! How is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

She held her arms around herself again, as if trying to hold back the roiling frustration she'd kept so carefully under lock and key, however her chewing on the fingernails of her left hand suggested that she wasn't doing a very good job. Her eyes seemed to have completely shifted character; a moment before they'd been clouded with hesitation, now they were fiery and alive in a way that struck Refina as chillingly familiar. A shiver prickled down her spine as she continued to watch, both intrigued and disturbed by this abrupt transformation.

"I...I need to get out of here,"said Celena in desperation. She started pacing, small hands fidgeting in a lock of hair or an edge of lace, eager to grasp at anything to relieve her sudden bout of nervous energy that seemed to crawl through her skin.

"That would make two of us," Refina said carefully, now quite certain that there was something wrong with this girl. People's emotions shouldn't turn on and off like that.

Celena halted in mid-stride, staring at Refina with those wide eyes before throwing herself at the bars.

"Maybe you can help me. You want out too, right?"

Refina's eyes narrowed and she gave the girl a long, hard stare before answering.

"Yeah, but let me ask you something. If you got out, where would you go?"

Celena paused, annoyance darting over her brow as she realized she had no idea where she _would_ go if suddenly the doors to her cage were opened. She'd be as disoriented and frightened as a newborn emerging into the harsh light of a wide, new world complete with dangers that no noblewoman would have the slightest idea how to face.

But it was either that, or spend the rest of her days resigned to spinning thread and waiting to be married off like the burden they so obviously treated her as. Then it would be someone else's turn to fix her up and force her to behave.

"...I don't know. But anywhere has to be better than here!"she cried with a quelling edge in her voice. Couldn't Refina see? Couldn't she understand that Celena's only choice was to flee while she had a chance?

Still, the soldier-girl pressed on, ticking off essential survival strategies as though determined to derail Celena's train of thought. Which actually wasn't that far from the truth. Refina had only considered using the Celena as a means to an end up to this point, a way of escape only for herself. She had no intention of taking on extra baggage that would only slow her down.

"Do you have any money?"

"No."

"What about a weapon? If you're going out on your own, you'll need one. Do you know how to use a knife?"

The frustration returned to her eyes, simmering its way past the desperation in a vivid flash that Refina would have sworn brought a reddish tinge to her irises if she'd been close enough to see.

"....No..."

"Do you know how to ride a horse?"

"No...."

Refina paused for a long moment, weighing her options. This girl seemed absolutely set on coming with her whether she wanted her to or not, and she could see that no amount of dissuasion would stop her. While she was admittedly impressed with the girl's determination, which honestly, she'd never imagined her to possess, she also lacked any knowledge of how to take care of herself once she was on the other side of the palace walls. And that would be a far more brutal and unforgiving place . There would be bandits, no doubt; survivors from the war raiding villages for whatever supplies they could scavenge. There would also likely be patrols from various countries they would have to hide from, and they'd sure as hell would be looking for her once she freed herself. She wouldn't even be able to use a guymelef for fear of attracting the wrong attention.

It didn't leave her with much to decide on. It was either going to be using what she had in front of her, or rotting away in her cell.

_Gods help me, _she thought, screwing her eyes shut as she prepared herself for what she was going to say next. _I can't believe I'm doing this. _

"Like I thought. If you want out, you're going to come with me."

Celena started, the anger on her face softening. She hadn't thought Refina would acquiesce, but couldn't deny the overwhelming feeling of excitement that she had. They'd be free, the both of them! Free to do as the wished, when they wished. There would be no more Eries, no more Shefali, no more lonely days aimlessly practicing pianoforte or painting flowers with no one to talk to.

"Really? You're really going to let me come with you?"

"Yes, in spite of myself. Someone's got to look after you. You wouldn't last a day out there."

The girl titled her head a little to the side in curiosity.

"Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter right now. Let's get out of here first."

"Right."

Refina quickly settled into a businesslike manner, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning forward in the hunched position known to lurking plotters everywhere who hid in the shadows waiting to carry out their master plan. She kept her eyes firmly on Celena, noting with bewilderment that the furious energy that had burst into life within her only a minute before was now gone. It was perplexing to see, and it made her wonder if taking such an unstable person along with her was really such a good idea after all.

_Oh, well, _she thought. _Too late to do anything about it now. Maybe along the way, I'll let her go at a village somewhere. But right now, she's my key._

"What do you know about this place?"

"I know that King Aston is dead."

Refina started, forgetting herself to let her mouth slightly drop in astonishment, completely unprepared for yet another incredible stoke of fortune. At most she had expected a description of the palace grounds, of where the stables were, of where the guards were stationed, and so on. A dead king tipped the scales in her favor quite considerably. The entire court would be preoccupied with funeral preparations. That it had happened just as she was beginning to think of a plan to escape made it all the more eerily perfect. It was as if Fate had decided not only to give her a helping hand, but also decided to give her every single winning card combination to beat those of her opponents.

_ "What?" _she cried incredulously.

"He's dead,"repeated Celena simply, as if she'd elected to share the fact that her favorite color was blue. There was no hint of sorrow in her voice. "Eries went to visit him after breakfast this morning and I went with her. That's when he died."

"You mean..."

Realization hit Refina then with all the unwelcome swiftness of a dragon descending upon an unwary victim. A dead king meant more than a simple gain in luck. It meant that her window of opportunity would become exceedingly narrow very shortly. It might be only a matter of days before the decree was issued to have her beheaded. She needed to move all the more quickly then, if she wanted to make it out of Asturia alive.

"Then," she said slowly, her words gaining speed as her mind began to piece together ideas. "Then there's going to be a funeral soon. I need you to find out when it is. That's going to be our only chance. Everyone's going to be busy with the ceremony and they won't see it coming. You'll have to find a way to get down here and let me out."

Celena nodded, meeting Refina's eyes with a steady, solemn expression.

"All right. Then what?"

"We'll make for the stables and get a horse. After that, I'll tell you where we're going." She paused to glance around the cell. "I think you'd better go. The guards might come around at any time and if we're caught now, it's over."

"I understand. I'll come back as soon as I can."

She disappeared, a ghostly flash of white as she silently fled back to the world above.


	6. Sad Tidings

AN: Hooray! More exposition! Allen and Van are coming to Palas and the shit's about to hit the fan!

The papers spilled across the desk, each carrying their own messages requesting aid for some crisis or other; the border of Basram needed a guymelef pilot, thieves were ransacking the villages in Asturian countryside, an on it went. Every part of the world, it seemed, was in shambles, and the need outpaced the Knight Caeli's ability to keep up.

Allen Schezar let his tired gaze sweep over the sea of parchment, and with a sigh, he reached over to his right to stroke the head of his faithful owl, Natal, who was resting on her perch.

"It's a lot, isn't it girl?"he asked softly, smiling thinly at the owl's bright, inquisitive gaze. Natal cooed, as if in sympathy, shifting closer to his hand to affectionately nip at the gloved fingers. Allen felt grateful for her presence. Natal might not be able to help him with his work, but her companionship had become more and more invaluable as of late,especially at this lonely outposting.

And now a new message sat atop all the others, just arrived this morning from the capital, the seal in the shape of the king's crest staring solemnly back at him, the dark red wax livid and foreboding. He knew it contained no good news. The courier had a harried, exhausted look about him when he'd delivered it, explaining only that it was "a matter of grave importance, sir. Directly from Princess Eries, sir."

A matter of grave importance, indeed. Among many other matters of grave importance that seemed ready to drown him these days.

Allen's first thoughts had immediately gone to his sister when he'd taken the letter, a chill settling in stomach at the thought of something happening to her. Had she been in accident? Was she ill? Had she-

No. He forced _that_ question back into the deepest recesses of his mind before it could present a host of terrifying scenarios he didn't care to dwell on. No...he would not dare to imagine _that_ would ever happen.

Upon seeing the king's seal, however, he'd felt at least a sliver of relief. Eries wouldn't have used it if it had been a message about Celena, which meant that his sister, was for the moment, at least, safe. This letter was strictly political.

Allen took the scroll, feeling the heaviness of the parchment in his hands before splitting the seal and unrolling it. A grimace creased his fine-boned features as he began to read the first few lines, pausing to screw his eyes shut against them, a deep sigh escaping his lips and sagging his shoulders. He opened them again to finish, making himself take it in:

_Dear Sir Schezar, Knight Caeli of Asturia,_

_ It saddens me to announce the passing of His Royal Majesty, King Grava Efud Aston, who departed at nine o'clock in the morning on the Twenty Fifth of White Moon. His passing was peaceful and painless, which is as much as any daughter could ask. Your presence is requested for the Royal Funerary Rites to be held at the Jichia Temple at seven o'clock in the morning the Thirtieth. I pray your arrival may be swift and without incident, for I have much I need to discuss with you. This time is very difficult, and I and Millerna greatly need you. _

_ Your sister as well, needs you. I will not burden you with the particulars here, but suffice to say, I cannot begin to reach her. You may be able to do what I cannot. Jichia only knows. _

_ Come quickly, dear Allen. I pray that I shall see you two days henceforth in Palas. _

_ Eries, Princess Asturia _

Allen's arms dropped heavily on the desk, re-reading the letter a few more times, noting the desperation behind the otherwise cool formality in the writing. Eries must have been hurried, and he could understand. He could only imagine the pain she and Millerna were going through now, the incredible burdens they were going to have to shoulder. Millerna was going to have an entire kingdom looking to her for guidance, and who knew when and if Dryden would show back up to fulfill his duties as her husband and king? And Eries-poor Eries, doomed to live a sad and shadowy life behind her sister, spending her days caring for Celena.

A profound sense of guilt swept over Allen then. He'd never really forgiven himself for asking Eries to take on such an incredibly difficult task. What right had he, anyway? It wasn't as though they were related; Eries had no obligations to him. But, who else could he have trusted more? His country has needed him. His men had needed him. He was in no position to offer Celena the stability she deserved.

And a small, evil part of himself whispered that he was glad not to witness what was happening to her.  
Allen loved his sister. That went without saying. He'd spent the last ten years of his life looking for her, and now that he finally had her, his happiness was tainted with the manner in which she _had _returned to him. He still wasn't fully able to accept what she was, what had been done to her. The knowledge that she had spent the better part of her life as someone else...a _monster,_ disturbed him far more than he was ready to admit.

She was his sister, yet he was utterly terrified of her.

There were times when he couldn't look at her, because Allen swore he saw_ him_ staring back.

And he'd given her to Eries. But Eries was strong, possessed of a quiet, enduring wisdom that without her, they'd have been nowhere. She'd guided him, not always gently, but always managing to steer him in the direction he needed to go. And for that, Allen could never repay her.

Sighing, he laid the letter down and rose to his feet. He had to find Gaddess and get him and his crew together to depart for Palas as soon as they could.

He ignored the niggling sense of fear tugging at his mental shirtsleeves that something bad was waiting for him there.

_Slice._

The sword swung in a graceful arc around the boy who wielded it about the practice floor, creating a killing circle that was deceptively beautiful in the fluidity of its movements.

_Slice._

The blade wove through the air, flashing in the thin early morning sunlight that seemed to creep warily over the window sills as though it were afraid of being cleaved apart.

Van pushed himself through exercise after exercise, mind only aware of the exertions of his body and the sword ever-dancing before him.

Merle knew to keep away during this time; whenever Van went to the armory, it usually meant he had frustrations better taken out on imaginary enemies than living comrades.

Reconstruction was so slow...so agonizingly slow. Just yesterday they'd lost Duran, an architect, when the a section of the outer wall had collapsed due to a weak foundation. It had been a senseless death. It never should have happened and Van blamed himself; he'd been the one to order Duran to the project, after all.

_ Why didn't I order stricter safety checks? Damn it! Why was I so shortsighted? _

_ Slice. Slice. Slice. _

He grimaced as his movements became more violent, his anger directed mostly towards himself for his lack of forethought, feeling just how deep the responsibility for that death went. He'd compensated Duran's family as much as he could; he'd paid for the burial, offered his widow a stipend to support her and her children. She had refused, stating that her husband had taken a risk for the good of his country, and that his fate had already been decided.

Van wasn't satisfied. He was going to see to it that she would receive the stipend as soon as he was able to afford it. Money was simply too tight at the moment, with most of it going towards construction and worker's salaries.

So_ slow..._

But they _were_ moving forward, and that was all that mattered now.

_ Never look back,_ he told himself as the sword sliced out a transverse slash, knowing that Hitomi would have said something similar if she'd been here.

_She would have told me to do my best, to not dwell on Duran's death, but to look to the future. I can't pretend I won't feel guilt over it, but I need to look at the bigger picture. That was my mistake the last time Fanelia was attacked. I wanted nothing more than single-minded revenge. _

"Milord."

Van's feet skidded to a halt at the sound of Ruhm's voice from the doorway, weapon at an awkward angle. He shook his head to bring his mind back to the present and save his ruminations for later. He sheathed his sword and turned to face his companion with an expectant, if slightly annoyed expression.

"Sorry to disturb you, milord,"Ruhm apologized with a brief bow. He held out a hand, and Van saw a scroll clutched in the beast-man's giant claws. "I'd not have come if it weren't urgent. A message came a little while ago from Palas. It's from Princess Eries."

"Princess Eries?" Van asked, moving closer to take the scroll from Ruhm and noticing the grim look in his eyes. Furrowing his brows in apprehension, Van tentatively unrolled the paper and began to read, his grip slowly growing tighter and crumpling the parchment as he did so.

"King Aston's dead," he said softly, voice husky with sadness, as if he hadn't had enough of it in the last few days. "We've been asked to attend the funeral."

"Sire?"

Van heard the question without it having to be spoken. He met Ruhm's eyes and the beast-man saw the resolve settling in on the young king's face, admiring his ability to emotionally pick himself up and keep walking in spite of fate's capricious dealings. He was growing up.

"Of _course _I'm going,"he said with a hint of a reprimand behind his words that anyone dare to second-guess his loyalty for his friends. "We leave tomorrow at dawn. Prepare the Escaflowne and go tell Merle."

Ruhm bowed in acquiescence, clapping a large hand on the boy's shoulder in an almost paternal gesture of support.

"As you wish, milord. "


	7. Return of the Gallant Knight

_He's coming home today._

That was the one thought in the forefront of the three women standing on the airship docks, eyes casting skywards for that telltale sign that a ship was approaching. He was due within the hour, and his homecoming stirred many a feeling within them. Especially with Eries; there was so much to say to him, so much she _wanted_ to say yet feared she could not. Grief and anxiety knotted themselves up around her like complicated Gordian knot that threatened to pull tighter and tighter until it choked her off altogether. And buried underneath, a tiny flutter of an emotion her sense of propriety would not allow her to put a name to; a distinct warm spark she struggled to contain from the other two, at least in public. That would have to wait until the moment when she felt ready to acknowledge it.

Eries cast a surreptitious glance at Celena. The girl was looking into the sky, yet seemed to be seeing a wholly different universe, her porcelain features unnaturally still and inscrutable. Where her mind had gone, Eries could not possibly guess, and frankly did not want to. She'd been quieter than usual lately, as if she were hiding something, a skulking look about her eyes.

It was just as well, Eries sighed to herself as she adjusted her cloak. Perhaps Allen could succeed where she could not, and pull her out of whatever darkness she'd wrapped herself in. Perhaps the unique bond of blood could transcend the terrors of Celena's inner world, and bring her back into the real one.

Eries hoped so. Because she was worn down to the last thread of her proverbial rope, and she felt even that might snap before long.

_Just get me through the next few days intact,_ she prayed to whatever deity might have a sympathetic ear. _Just let me bury my father with dignity. _

A distinctly mechanical roar jolted her out of her moroseness, and her eyes caught sight of a small black shape on the horizon that was growing larger as it approached the docks. It was Allen.

"Here he comes!" cried Millerna, excitement flushing in her cheeks, a smile breaking out over her face.

The airship loomed overhead as it bore down onto the landing strip, propellers whipping the cool morning air into nearly a gale. Their ears filled with the thundering of the engine, rattling their teeth as well as the ground beneath them. Eventually, the ship drew to a stop and the engine mercifully ceased its roaring, bringing an abrupt silence in its wake that seemed somehow louder than the noise which had preceded it. The sharp hiss of hydraulics cut its way through the air a few moments later, and a landing ramp extended itself from the ships belly.

Eries felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw a few of Allen's men descend the ramp, looking far more serious than they usually did, although one or two grinned as they took in the sight of Palas and tasted the salty sea air. There would be drinking tonight, but the spirit of celebration would be dampened.

A tall figure emerged behind them, its elegant stride making the elder princess's heart hammer in her chest as she realized who was coming towards them. The sunlight gleamed on a long mane of golden hair as he stepped out from the ship's shadow.

Allen.

Clad in in the elaborate uniform of a Knight Caeli, long hair gently billowing around a handsome face set with a stony, regal expression, Allen Schezar appeared in every way the epitome of the Prince Charming so often dreamed of by young women. Indeed, many a noblewoman of the court had sighed over those looks behind lace fans, had fantasized of catching his eye or being graced with his famous chivalry and gentle manners, and still more would have been quite willing to cuckold their husbands for him.

Those women had absolutely no idea of who Allen really was. In his entire life, Allen had eyes for only two women: Marlene, and his sister, Celena, and his adventures in love had not been nearly as romantic as the gossip would have suggested.

And now this gloriously flawed creature, who had been the source of as much pain as pleasure to her for the last dercade of her life, had returned, and in this moment of naked vulnerability, Eries found herself loving him more than she ever had.

Allen's face softened as he approached, a small smile gracing his lips at seeing the three people whom he cared the most about standing to meet him, but the warmth could not conceal the sadness in his eyes. He bowed towards Eries and Millerna, more out of habit these days than a need for formality, and truly, considering what sort of history lay between them all, such prestenses seemed awkward, even silly.

"I apologize for my absence at court, Your Highnesses," he said in a solemn voice. "I am grieved by the news of your father."

_ And yet you are distancing yourself from us with that kind of talk_, Eries thought. _Is it to save face in front of your men, I wonder? Or is there something else? _

Millerna, eyes shining with unshed tears, impuslsively stepped forward to throw her arms around Allen in a tight embrace, a move which Eries would have reprimanded her for not a year ago.

"It's so good to see you, Allen!"cried Millerna. "I'm so glad you've come back!"

Allen returned her gesture, albeit with a bit more restraint, aware that the woman he was holding was still betrothed to another man, and soon to be crowned queen, and obviously not too keen in awakening any old feelings of infatuation that she had once held for him.

"I'm glad to be back,"he replied, and Eries could see the sincerity and compassion in his face. He turned to the elder princess, gently letting Millerna go so he could clasp her hand in greeting.

"Princess Eries," he said, and the tone in his voice held an enitre unspoken conversation. "I am glad to see you despite this difficult time."

She caught it immediately, and with a nod, gave his hands a subtle squeeze to underscore just how

"Thank you for coming, Allen," she said softly, flicking her eyes significantly to her left at Celena. "The times are indeed difficult. Your presence here is appreciated more than you know."

He followed her gaze to settle at last on the one person he had come specifically to see; his sister. She was watching him with expressionless eyes, without even the slightest hint as to what she might have been thinking or feeling on seeing him again. Her features appeared harder than he remembered, somehow less innocent, less young. As he looked at her longer, he saw that her eyes, too, seemed to have changed; they were colder, sharper and more distant than he had ever known them to be.

Allen suppressed a chill at the alien demeanor of Celena, his smile growing wider in spite of his inner misgivings that there was something distinctly out of place.

"Celena,"he said affectionately, reaching out to take her small hands in his own. "It's been too long since I've last seen you. How are you doing?"

Her eyes flickered uncertantly for a moment, as if she couldn't decide on her reaction, then she threw her arms around his neck and buried her head against his chest.

"Brother," she whispered, clinging to him as if Jichia himself could not make her let go. Allen tightened his hold on her, resting his cheek against the top of her head and squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden tide of guilt.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here for you. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too," Celena whispered back, voice tight with repressed emotion, sincere in her words, even though she still carried a sliver of resentment against him in her heart for leaving her behind. But now that he was here, holding her, talking to her, telling her he was sorry, she could almost feel remorse about what she was planning to do.

Almost.

"What is it you wish to discuss, Eries?"

Allen and Eries were in the princess's drawing room, having retired there after supper so she could explain her situation in more detail. Celena had been put to her needlework so they could speak without interruption.

"So many things," she sighed wearily, gaze wandering to the window that overlooked her private garden. "Your sister for one."

Allen's mouth drew into a thin, hard line as he studied the princess out of the corner of his eye, seeing how utterly diminished she appeared from how she last had been, how in need she was. All during supper he'd found himself unable to look away from the fine lines of care that had begun to creep in on the edges of her eyes, horrified that this task he had asked of her had finally begun to take its toll.

_What on earth have I done? _

"I know,"he said in a quiet voice. "I saw how she looked this morning when I arrived. There's something about her that's different, something wrong."

Eries turned to him beseechingly, throwing a helpless gesture at the door.

"I don't know...what it is I should do, what I_ can _do for her,"she began haltingly. "She resists me. I try to teach her the ways of our society, but no matter what I do, she is uncooperative. I-I know you told me—what happened to her—that you didn't know what to expect, but—I think that maybe you might be able to bring her back to herself."

Allen watched her, eyes raw with pain. How could Fate be so cruel to one like her? What had Eries ever done to deserve these sorrows?

"Eries," he responded, moving forward to take her gently by the arms. "I'll do whatever I can. You know I will. You and Millerna and Celena are all that I have left."

Eries stared up at him, seeing how quickened with emotion he was, the compassion and sincerity in his eyes. How long had it been since someone had looked at her that way? Had there ever been anyone who did? It had always been Marlena or Millerna with suitors, who had drawn many an appreciative glance from the men at court. Ever the unflappable sibling, Eries had always pretended that she'd never noticed, never cared about such frivolous things, but deep down, there had always been a small part of her that had been jealous.

She felt herself begin to tremble, body now running on a kind of sensory overload that even her firm resolve could no longer hold back. Aperson could only push aside their feelings for so long before they finally erupted from the pressure, and standing here with the man she'd secretly loved for the past few years was proving too much. Eries collapsed against him, weeping openly and unashamedly, the tears hot and stinging as they coursed down her reddened cheeks.

"It's all right to mourn him," Allen whispered, smoothing a gloved hand over her flaxen hair. "You're trying so hard to fix things that you haven't let yourself feel what you need to."

"I miss him so much!"Eries sobbed, burying her face into the fine leather of his doublet, at once relishing in the feel of his arms around her and embarrassed at her own unguarded behavior. She couldn't remember the last time she'd expressed herself this way; perhaps it had been when her mother was still alive, so very long ago. "But I need to fix things. What have I done my whole life except fix things and take care of everyone around me? Oh, Allen, who am I going to turn to now that Father is gone?"

"You can turn to me,"Allen said earnestly. "You've done enough for me already. Now let me try to repay you for it. You need time to heal."

Eries let out a bitter laugh against his shoulder, feeling acutely drained and weakened under the weight of her grief.

"Time? Allen, there's a whole kingdom now that has no ruler, and Millerna, she's-"

"She's Regent,"he finished. "And she'll do what's necessary. She'll be fine. And now that I'm here, I'll stay for as long as you need. It was wrong of me to force all of this on you alone."

She raised her head, searching his face as she brushed her tears away. His expression, his eyes, his words, told her all that she'd been wanting to know. Allen's feelings were being offered to her, written as plainly on his features as the day was long.

_Does he truly...?_ Eries wondered in astonishment, again feeling that same warmth she'd felt that morning when she'd seen his airship land. Instead of fighting against it, however, she let it wash over her to dull the ache in her heart and lighten the heaviness in her limbs. For the first time in many months, a true smile blossomed over her face like the first fragile flower of spring bursting forth from winter's chill.

"Thank you," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder as she embraced him again, feeling as though a great shadow had been lifted from her mind. "Thank you so much."

"I should be thanking _you._ You've helped me out so many times,"he said, chuckling a bit at the irony of the situation. "You were always there to point me in the right direction, even if it meant henpecking me like a mother."

Eries felt herself laugh, the sound of it genuinely surprising her. When had she last _laughed_ at anything? When had she even felt anywhere close to it?

_I've been alone too long,_ she realized grimly. _I haven't let myself live or feel much of anything the past six months. Perhaps Allen is right. Perhaps I have been trying to take control of too many things at once. _

"I suppose we've been though a lot together, haven't we?" Allen asked, gladdened somewhat at seeing Eries smile, even though his own heart remained troubled.

"I suppose we have," she agreed. "Although I only henpecked you because I cared about you. I didn't want to see you or my sisters get hurt. That's what we "mothers" do."

"Your father and your sisters were lucky to have your wisdom," Allen said, his face darkening for a moment as he remembered all the years he'd spent hating his own father. "I've envied that about them. I never had anyone to guide me until I met you."

"You're kind for that. And I do miss Father. He was the only parent I really remembered. He taught me everything I know, and he was the only one I could really talk to. My sisters—well, you know."

Ah, didn't he? Millerna and Marlene—passionate, rebellious, and impulsive; qualities which he had loved in his youth when he himself had possessed similar qualities. Marlene's face flashed ubidden though his mind then, her playful smile, her waves of golden hair, the way she'd talked to him as if he'd been her equal instead of another servant.

He felt himself wince at a sudden stab of grief; at the eternal separation that had been an inevitability from the beginning of their tryst. As much as they'd loved each other, they could never have remained together. And he, a callow youth of only sixteen, had had nothing to offer her beyond the phsyical. It had been only right for her to marry a duke, and right for the child she'd carried.

Observant as always, Eries said, "You still miss her, don't you?"

"And I always will," he answered without hesitation. "Marlene was my first love, and there was a child that came from that love—In Prince Chid she'll live on. I'm glad for that, but now it's time to focus on who is with me here; Celena...and you."

He bent down to place a tender kiss on her cheek.


	8. Breaking Ties

It was a crisp, clear morning the day of King Aston's funeral, yet the palace was darkened with the veil of mourning. Black crepe had been draped over all of the king's furnishings in his bedchambers as well as the state rooms, and would remain there for the next one hundred days, after which Millerna would be crowned.

Celena lay in her bed, having yet to make a move to rise, her body trembling all over. She'd barely slept, her mind too alive with the terror of what she had promised she'd do today; help Refina escape. And not only that, but to go along with her to gods only knew where. What had she been thinking to agree to help a convicted criminal? Could she really even do it?

Allen's return yesterday had only served to complicate matters even more, threatening to destroy an already delicate and impossible plan. No doubt he'd shadow her every move, and with his watch added to that of Eries, her chances of escaping after today were very nearly non-existent. And, truth be told, she was afraid of being caught, afraid that the bars of her cage would shrink even further if Allen or Eries should find her roaming about where she shouldn't. What if she couldn't make it to the dungeons in time? And what if Refina, once freed, refused to uphold her end of the bargain?

_ She could kill me,_ Celena knew, her stomach heavy with the chill realization that there would be no one to protect her from the consequences of her actions should those consequences endanger her. And very likely they would. Refina would have no reason to keep Celena alive once she'd fulfilled her purpose. In the end it all boiled down to choice; she could chose the path of least resistance, and could be certain of a future where she would never have to worry about _making _any choice ever again. Or she could chose what in the deepest and darkest parts of her heart knew she desired, and fight for her freedom. It meant going against those who had sheltered her, those who sought to protect her and even her own blood. Yet it was those selfsame people who had provoked in Celena such feelings of resentment and anger that her fear seemed almost a mild thing beneath is raging red shadow.

Here, there was nothing.

_ Allen..._she thought. _That this should happen to us...but if I stay, you will never see me as a person, as a woman. You would only see me as your precious treasure to keep behind lock and_ _key. I cannot..._will not, _be your living doll. _

With that resolve, she made to push herself up into a sitting position, enlivened by an undercurrent of excitement riding beneath her anxieties. Yet, no sooner was she able to put one foot on the floor than the door creaked open, making her pull back under the covers as Allen stepped in.

"Celena!" he exclaimed in surprise, apparently expecting her to still be asleep. "You're awake."

Yes, and if he only knew the reason why, he'd have had every window barred and every door between here and the palace gates firmly locked, she thought caustically.

She flashed him an uncomfortable smile, not really knowing how to behave with him. He'd come so suddenly back into her life after being away for so long, he was more like a familiar-faced stranger. And now that she looked at him, truly looked at him, she felt irritated at the brotherly concern in his face, at the need to hover over her like one of his damned airships.

"Good morning,"she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"How are you feeling?"

What a loaded question that was! She wanted throw her head back and laugh spitefully in his face. How was she _feeling?_ How could he ever _begin_ to know what she felt? Perhaps he should try being sequestered in his room for six months without sunlight or fresh air, with a mind ravaged with nightmares, and _then_ try asking her how she felt!

Some of that spite must have glinted in her eyes, for now he brushed at a stray curl from her forehead as if to soothe her, his hand lingering against her cheek.

_ I wish you wouldn't look at me that way, _Celena whispered to herself. _Don't look at me like that, Allen! Don't you_ dare_ try to make me feel guilty! _

"I didn't sleep very well,"she answered lamely, deciding that at this point at least, playing into his conception that she was a helpless invalid was probably the best way to get him to leave her alone. She rubbed at an eye for effect, hoping it made her look all the more pitiable.

"You do look pale,"he agreed. "Do you want me to send for Dr. Shefali?"

At the doctor's name she sat bolt upright, a wild panic darting over her face as she shook her head in emphatic refusal.

"No!"she cried, a thin hand lashing out to grip his sleeve. "No, don't send him in here!"

Allen looked taken aback at the suddenness of her reaction, a frown creasing his handsome face as he made a mental note to bring this to the good doctor's attention when next they met. He didn't like the thought of a close family confidant being the cause of such distress.

"I merely suggested it out of concern,"he said softly, pulling her hand away from him to set it upon her blanket. "If you don't need him, I will not send for him."

Celena visibly relaxed, settling back onto her pilllows. The last thing she needed was yet another set of eyes watching her every move.

"Thank you."

Allen smiled, though his eyes were still uncertain.

"It's all right. I'll tell Eries you're not feeling up to attending the funeral. It's a long ceremony, and I don't want you to strain yourself."

Celena glanced away from him for fear of revealing the sudden feeling of relief that she would be left unattended for the next few hours. She merely gave him a demure nod and he again smoothed her hair back before getting up to leave.

"I'll be back as soon as it's over,"he said reassuringly, as if he believed her silence a sign of her sorry to see him go. "Elena will wait on you if you need anything."

Celena held her breath, ears straining as his footsteps faded, giving herself a few moments to be sure he was gone and with a gusty exhale, threw her covers off. She hurried to her closet to find as simple a dress she owned; nothing that would call attention to herself. She slipped it on, fingers trembling as they stumbled to lace up the bodice. She then glanced around her room then to see if there was anything she wanted to bring with her, then decided against it. There was nothing in here that would be of any use, and she didn't want to carry around a reminder of what had been nothing more than a comfortable prison.

She shut her eyes against the hammering of her heart, trying to focus her mind with a few deep breaths, but it proved a pointless exercise. She was wasting time.

Creeping towards her door, Celena eased it open a crack, ear cocked to hear if anyone was milling about nearby. She heard the distant footsteps of a group of people down in the parlor and the muted voices of Eries and Allen. A younger voice piped up between them occasionally, no doubt that of Millerna. Celena struggled to make out what they were saying, but they were too far away, drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears and the racing of her pulse.

Eventually, the voices faded and disappeared, and Celena quickly slid out of her room closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. She crept along the empty hallway, steeling herself against any maid that might pass by, careful to keep to the drapes or behind any piece of furniture she came across.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused to listen for any voices or movement down below. She thought she could hear the swish of skirts somewhere, perhaps Elena tidying up the parlor. If the maid was down there, Celena was going to have to be extra careful to be as inconspicuous as possible.

She descended, movements lithe as a stalking dragon, some inborn sense guiding her muscles in a silent choreography that was at once familiar and novel. She had moved this way hundreds of times, she was sure. She'd been trained to do so...

….Hadn't she?

Celena stopped short of the parlor door, having spotted the black skirts of Elena's uniform swirling around her tall frame as she busied herself straightening pillows or taking out a dust-cloth to wipe at the knickknacks on the tables.

She waited, crouched behind a vase that was nearly as tall as she was, seconds ticking by a slow eternity before the maid decided the room was to her liking and vanished through the door that Celena knew lead to the kitchen.

Taking tentative steps, she sidled her way into the parlor, ducking behind one of the sofas, eyes scanning around for even the slightest movement. When it seemed that Elena wouldn't be coming back any time soon, Celena dashed out of the parlor and into the front hallway that would take her to the rooms that served state functions, not sparing a glance behind her. She knew it wouldn't be too long before Elena would discover her missing and send word to her brother. And although she felt a stab of guilt at being parted from him yet again, it was a fleeting as her own quickened steps. Forward was the only way she could go now.

As she ran she consulted her inner map of where she needed to turn to reach the dungeons.

Left, she remembered, just as she reached the end of the hallway that opened into a larger chamber filled with large and impressive oil paintings that would have given any other visitor pause to marvel at their depictions of battles, ancient kings, or more intimate portraits of queens and princesses long past. Celena paused, not the least bit moved by the grandeur, and scanned the chamber to find the doorway she had used before. She found it, a bit past the Queen's salon, and hurried towards it, praying that there was no one close to hear the unfortunate echoes of her footsteps.

Her every movement felt taut and brittle, as if one wrong move would shatter the moment into a million gleaming pieces of glass that would disappear forever. She felt a familiar restless stirring in the uncharted depths of her psyche, like a newborn opening its eyes for the first time. She was forced to stop and lean against the wall just in front of the staircase that would take her to the passageways the servants used. She squeezed her eyes shut against the unknown intruder, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

Not now, she pleaded to the dull throbbing in her head. Not now! Go_ away! _

An abrupt, searing pain stabbed viciously through her skull, sending Celena doubling over and clutching at the wall for support as she struggled to ride it through. Then, just as abruptly as it had come, the pain vanished, but a hollow ache followed in its wake, as though warning her it intended to return.

Gasping, she pushed herself back up onto tottering, shaky legs, raising equally shaky fingers to massage her temples while trying to fight off the frightened tears she felt welling in the corners of her eyes. She scrubbed them away in frustration, knowing all too well that trying to figure out why this was happening to her wouldn't help her right now. If she stayed put any longer she would risk being caught.

Exhaling sharply, she slowly lowered her hands and stumbled on, taking care to watch where she put her feet on the stair in case another attack inadvertently sent her tumbling to the bottom and putting a permanent end to her quest. After a long while, she reached the bottom, feeling a flicker of gratitude of having suffered no further mishap.

She was now in the narrow and dark service hallway, bare of any decoration since it was removed from the royal residences on the floor above. She glanced around to be sure that she was heading in the right direction before setting off once more to the stone stairs that would take her down to the dungeons and hopefully to her freedom.

Her heart began to pound when she reached them, a mad battering against her ribs that felt as if it would burst straight through. Her mind began to attack itself with second thoughts as she set her foot on the first step, warning her that this wasn't what she wanted to do, that she couldn't trust her future to the hands of an ex-Zaibach captain. This wasn't what a proper lady did. Proper ladies did as their families told them; they sat still, spoke softly, and never made any trouble.

_But I've never been a proper lady,_ Celena reminded herself with a bitter grin. She forced her feet to move...down, down, down. _I never will be. _

Down, down, and down again, her hand trailing on the rough hewn wall, for even in daylight the stair was encased in shadow and candles had to be lit every few feet.

A few steps more...then a few more.

It struck her suddenly then that she had no idea of what she would do if she was accosted by a guard, and very likely she would be, judging by what Refina had told her. What would she say? She would look out of place, not to mention incredibly suspicious. Anyone who was a member of the court would be at the funeral, not down the castle basement striking up a conversation with convicted war criminals.

Maybe she should just pretend to be sick-after all, isn't that what everyone assumed she was? Isn't that what everyone in her narrow world kept telling her day in and day out? She may as well use that to her advantage.

Then again, considering what had just occurred only twenty minutes ago, maybe she wouldn't need to pretend very hard at all.

Almost there. A few more.

By now her stomach was tight with a trepidation that threatened to freeze her in place as much as it galvanized her into keeping herself moving. Her foot hovered above the second to last step, poised to turn around and flee back to where it was safe, but she willed herself to put it down. She'd come this far. She couldn't turn back. There was nothing to run back to.

_ Now it comes. _

Refina sat aside the dented metal bowl that her gruel had been served in, unable, as always to choke all of it down. The watery slop made the lumpy, bland mixture she'd eaten in the Vione seem like a delicacy.

She titled her head back, leaning it against the stone wall, wining slightly as its roughness dug into her scalp. She wondered if today would be the day she would at last get to see the world outside of her cell, if Celena would come as she'd promised.

The guard stood just beyond, leaning causally against the rusted iron bars, no doubt wondering why he'd gotten stuck with the early shift. His posture betrayed his boredom. He'd spoken little to her, and she didn't hold it against him. What did he really have to say to her anyway?

He was, of course, completely unaware that today could possibly be the last time he would feel this way. Refina felt her lips draw up into a tight, feral smile at the thought. Oh, what she would do to him if she were on the other side of those bars. Her fingers instinctively curled and uncurled as she thought of holding a weapon once more. This guard would be the first, whether or not the girl came. She'd held herself back long enough. It was time to make them pay for what they'd done.

The grin disappeared as her thoughts returned to Celena, irked that her fate rested in someone else's hands, someone who honestly didn't seem very reliable. Although she'd seemed perfectly willing to risk everything and escape with her, Refina had to admit that the first fingers of doubt were slithering their way into her mind. The girl was skittish, easily frightened and prone to rather disturbing mood swings. How could she count on someone like that to come to her aid?

Well, she _couldn't_, and that was what had her irritated. She'd taken a gamble, and now she could only wait and see if the dice she'd rolled would win her the prize she'd so desired.

She looked down and caught the fingers of her right hand tapping out a frenetic rhythm on her thigh. Refina frowned and stilled them. She hadn't been this edgy in a long time and that annoyed her as well.

_If you're coming girl,_ she thought. _You better hurry. I've waited as long as I can. _

Her gaze rested on the guard again. He was standing within her reach, not paying her any mind, complacent in the assumption that she wouldn't try anything. She could take him now, but as undeniably satisfying as that would be, there would be no way she could get his keys if he fell at an awkward angle.

Still, he was a tempting and easy target, and she began to mull over alternative solutions when the guard suddenly jerked upright with a gasp.

Startled out of her brooding, Refina rose to her feet and saw what had drawn the guard's attention. A young girl came stumbling into the dungeon, dressed in a simple, pale blue gown, eyes flickering to and fro in befuddlement, her posture wary. She seemed almost like a half-tame wolf cub skittering about the edges of a campfire, wanting to move, yet still uncertain whether doing so would lead her into a trap.

So, she'd come after all, Refina mused. Truly, she had begun to suspect that Celena had panicked at the last minute and elected to stay under the wings of her guardians, despite the frustration towards them she'd shown previously. Yet her presence made Refina feel better than she could remember.

_So, the gods have decided to show me mercy for a change, _she thought darkly, eyeing the back of the guard's head as he took a few steps towards Celena. _Let's see if this moppet has what it takes. _

"Milady!" cried the guard, giving a hasty bow in surprise. "What—What are you doing down here?"

She blinked, appearing unsure of where she was, but made no reply, instead moving towards Refina's cell.

"Ah—Milady Celena..."the guard stuttered, still trying to make sense of what was going on. "Shouldn't you be with Lord Allen and Princess Eries for the King's funeral? Didn't you hear? Sad business, isn't it?"

He moved to block her approach, totally at a loss as to how to get her to respond to him. Naturally, he'd heard rumors about this strange sister of Allen Schezar; how she'd turned up out of nowhere after missing for ten years, how it was said that she had been in some sort of accident and had been driven insane. How were you supposed to talk to someone who'd lost their mind? Why had she come down here alone? Where was the princess and her brother?

"There's really nothing for you down here, Miss,"the guard said gently, trying his best to dissuade her with as much politeness as he could. Unfortunately for him, this plan worked against him, as in his rambling and all of his focus on getting Celena to stop, he didn't see Refina slip up behind him with deadly feline grace, arm shooting out from between the bars to loop around his neck. Her other arm came around to slam him further into the cold iron as Refina tried to exert as much force as the awkward position allowed to keep him from breaking away.

The guard gagged as his air supply was cut off, struggling against her grasp, but the metal behind his head was unrelenting and left him little room to maneuver.

"Hold him down!" Refina snapped at Celena, who was watching the man before her fight for breath with an expression of morbid fascination. Refina's command jolted her out of her trance and promptly, she braced her hands on his chest. It was strange that she did so without protest, without pausing to consider that she was participating in a murder, that she was helping a criminal. Eries and Allen would have been mortified beyond all reason if they had seen her then. Their faces briefly flashed across her mind's eye before she swept them aside. She felt detached from the situation, as if this were someone else's hands shoving against the guard and she was only a spectator.

_Why don't I feel anything? _She wondered as the life began to fade from the guard. She saw his eyes bulge in the last frantic bid to live, saw his lips darken to a ghastly shade of purple.

_Why don't I care?_

The guard finally slumped over, his body sliding out of Refina's arms into a boneless puddle on the floor. She spared only the briefest second to eye the body with a cold glare of disgust before meeting Celena's horrified eyes.

_What did she expect to happen? Is she going to run now? _

"Get the keys,"she ordered, giving the girl no opportunity to start second guessing herself. "They should be on a ring on his belt."

She watched closely to see if her order would be followed. Celena started, casting one last fearful glance at Refina before stooping to snatch at a brass ring looped into the belt.

"There's more than one key here,"she said, the slight waver in her voice betraying her nervousness.

Refina waved her hand dismissively, an impatient scowl stealing over her face.

"Just try them until you get the right one,"she replied curtly. "Come on!"

Celena flinched a bit at the harshness of the other girl's tone, but nodded and did as she was told, sticking the first key into the lock and giving it an experimental twist. When nothing happened, she flicked it aside and went to the next key. The lock turned with a groan of protest, and she stepped back to let Refina do the honors, and also to stay out of her reach in case the other girl decided to turn on her.

Refina kicked the door open unceremoniously, the movement quick and ruthless, as if she'd harbored a special hatred for it. In all likelihood, she probably had. She listened with a deep pleasure as it groaned on rusted hinges, the sound echoing in the empty stone corridor like a cry of victory. She stepped out into the corridor, eyes closed and face now wearing a serene smile as she savored the long forgotten feeling of openness. A sigh escaped her, the sound one of supreme joy and release. It lasted for but a moment or two, and then she settled back into her role as a soldier, whirling into a crouch near the guard's corpse to unstrap his sword belt and buckle it around her hips. The weight of a weapon at her side brought a feeling of strength and reassurance, as if a piece of her had been missing and now she felt whole, like the captain she had trained so hard to become.

At last. At last her time had come and she could take her revenge as she pleased. She would find the one who had brought so much sorrow and pain to her and her country, and after she had disposed of him she would begin her search for the one she loved.

She turned to Celena, regarding her with a mixture of surprise, smugness, and impatience.

"Nice of you to show up,"she deadpanned with an equally dry smirk. "Are you ready?"

Celena nodded, determination flashing behind the apprehension in her pale eyes. She could no longer be Allen's sister now. She had committed treason, and her fate was now inextricably entwined with Refina's, although just how deeply and unnervingly so, she would soon learn. And that particular lesson would be one she wouldn't likely survive.


End file.
